RUTH  FIELDING 

AT 

LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 


ALICE  B-  EMERSON 


MM 


^-     -   -  *        --      ■       —i  iniT  ' 


^* 


UNIVERSITY  OF  N.C.  AT  CHAPEL 


00022085814 


university  of 

NORTH  CAROLINA 


FNDOWEDBYTHE 
O^SoPHIUKrHEOP.C 

SOCIETIES 


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SHE  WAS   UNCONSCIOUS   WHEN   THEY   LIFTED   HER  OUT. 
Ruth  Fielding  at  Lighthouse  Potnt  Page  78 


Ruth    Fielding 
at  Lighthouse  Point 

OR 

NITA,  THE  GIRL  CASTAWAY 

BY 

ALICE  B.  EMERSON 

Author  of  "Ruth  Fielding  of  The  Red  Mill," 
"Ruth  Fielding  at  Briarwood  Hall"  etc. 

ILLUSTRATED 


NEW  YORK 

CUPPLES  &  LEON  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Honks  for  (Stria 

By  ALICE  B.    EMERSON 

BTJTH    FIELDING    SEMES 

I2ma.     Cloth.    Illustrated. 

RUTH  FIELDING  OF  THE  RED  MILL 
Or,  Jasper  Parloe's  Secret. 

RUTH  FIELDING  AT  BRIARWOOD  HALL 
Or,  Solving  the  Campus  Mystery. 

RUTH  FIELDING  AT  SNOW  CAMP 
Or,  Lost  in  the  Backwoods. 

RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 
Or,  Nita,  the  Girl  Castaway. 

RUTH  FIELDING  AT  SILVER  RANCH 
Or,  Schoolgirls  Among  the  Cowboys. 

Cupples  &  Leon  Co.,  Publishers,  New  York. 

Copyright,  1913,  by 
Cupples  &  Leon  Company 


Ruth  Fielding  at  Lighthouse  Point 


Printed  in  U.  S-  A. 


■\ 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER  PAG« 

I.  An  Initiation       .     .     .•     ...  >  i 

II.  The  Fox  at  Work     .      .     .  (.  9 

III.  On  Lake  Osago     .      .     .      ..  ,'.,  16 

IV.  Trouble  at  the  Red  Mill  .  .  24 
V.  The  Tintacker  Mine    ..     ,.  .  32 

VI.  Uncle  Jabez  at  His  Worst      .  42 

VII.  The  Signal  Gun 49 

VIII.  The  Lifeboat  Is  Launched      .  57 

IX.  The  Girl  in  the  Rigging      .     .  64 

X.  The  Double  Charge       ...  72 

XI.  The  Story  of  the  Castaway     .  80 

XII.  Busy  Izzy  in  a  New  Aspect      .„  90 

XIII.  Crab  Proves  to  Be  of  the  Hard- 

shell Variety 97 

XIV.  The  Tragic  Incident  in  a  Fish- 

ing Excursion 103 

XV.  Tom  Cameron  to  the  Rescue  .  114 

XVI.  Ruth's  Secret 120 

XVII.  What  Was  in  the  Newspaper  .  128 

XVIII.  Another  Night  Adventure      .  137 

XIX.  The  Goblins'  Gambol     .     .     .  145 

XX.  "  Whar's  My  Jane  Ann?"  .      .  153 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XXI. 

XXII. 

XXIII. 

XXIV. 

XXV. 


Crab  Makes  His  Demand 
Thimble  Island    . 

Marooned 

Plucky  Mother  Purling 
What  Jane  Ann  Wanted 


PAGS 

162 
171 
179 
187 
196 


*  \ 


RUTH  FIELDING 
AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

CHAPTER   I 

AN   INITIATION 

A  brown  dusk  filled  the  long  room,  for  al- 
though the  windows  were  shrouded  thickly  and 
no  lamp  burned,  some  small  ray  of  light  perco- 
lated from  without  and  made  dimly  visible  the 
outlines  of  the  company  there  gathered. 

The  low,  quavering  notes  of  an  organ  sighed 
through  the  place.  There  was  the  rustle  and 
movement  of  a  crowd.  To  the  neophyte,  who 
had  been  brought  into  the  hall  with  eyes  band- 
aged, it  all  seemed  very  mysterious  and  awe- 
inspiring. 

Now  she  was  set  in  a  raised  place  and  felt  that 
before  her  was  the  company  of  masked  and 
shrouded  figures,  in  scarlet  dominoes  like  those 
worn  by  the  two  guards  who  had  brought  her 
from  the  anteroom.  The  bandage  was  whisked 
from  her  eyes;  but  she  could  see  nothing  of  her 
surroundings,  nor  of  the  company  before  which 
she  stood. 

"  Candidate ! "  spoke  a  hollow,  mysterious 
yoke  somewhere  in  the  gloom,  yet  sounding  so 


2      RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

close  to  her  ear  that  she  started.  "Candidate! 
you  stand  before  the  membership  body  of  the 
S.  B.'s.  You  are  as  yet  unknown  to  them  and  they 
unknown  to  you.  If  you  enter  the  secret  associa- 
tion of  the  S.  B.'s  you  must  throw  off  and  despise 
forever  all  ties  of  a  like  character.  Do  you 
agree?  " 

The  candidate  obeyed,  in  so  far  as  she  pro- 
her  sharply  in  the  ribs  and  a  shrill  voice  whis- 
pered:    "  Say  you  do — gump  !  " 

The  candidate  obeyed,  in  so  far  as  she  pro- 
claimed that  she  did,  at  least. 

"It  is  an  oath,"  went  on  the  sepulchral  voice. 
"Remember!" 

In  chorus  the  assembly  immediately  repeated, 
"  Remember!  "  in  solemn  tones. 

"Candidate!"  repeated  the  leading  voice, 
"you  have  been  taught  the  leading  object  of  our 
existence  as  a  society.    What  is  it?  " 

Without  hesitation  now,  the  candidate  replied: 
"  Helpfulness." 

"  It  is  right.  And  now,  what  do  our  initials 
stand  for?  " 

"  Sweetbriar,"  replied  the  shaking  voice  of  the 
candidate. 

"  True.  That  is  what  our  initials  stand  for  to 
the  world  at  large — to  those  who  are  not  initiated 
\nto  the  mysteries  of  the  S.  B.'s.  But  those  let- 
ters may  stand  for  many  things  and  it  is  my  privi- 


AN   INITIATION  3 

lege  to  explain  to  you  now  that  they  likewise  are 
to  remind  us  all  of  two  virtues  that  each  Sweet- 
briar  is  expected  to  practice — to  be  sincere  and  to 
befriend.  Remember!  Sincerity — Befriend.  Re- 
member! " 

Again  the  chorus  of  mysterious  voices  chanted: 
"Remember!" 

"  And  now  let  the  light  shine  upon  the  face  of 
the  candidate,  that  the  Shrouded  Sisterhood  may 
know  her  where'er  they  meet  her.  Once!  Twice! 
Thrice!    Light!" 

At  the  cry  the  ray  of  a  spot-light  flashed  out  of 
the  gloom  at  the  far  end  of  the  long  room  and 
played  glaringly  upon  the  face  and  figure  of  the 
candidate.  She  herself  was  more  blinded  by  the 
glare  than  she  had  been  by  the  bandage.  There 
was  a  rustle  and  movement  in  the  room,  and  the 
leading  voice  went  on: 

11  Sisters !  the  novice  is  now  revealed  to  us  all. 
She  has  now  entered  into  the  outer  circle  of  the 
Sweetbriars.  Let  her  know  us,  where'er  she  meets 
us,  by  our  rallying  cry.  Once !  Twice !  Thrice ! 
Now/'* 

Instantly,  and  in  unison,  the  members  chanted 
the  following  "  yell  "  : 

"S.  B.— Ah-h-h! 
S.  B.— Ah-h-h! 
Sound  our  battle-cry 


4      RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

Near  and  far! 
S.  B.— All! 
Briarwood  Hall! 
Sweetbriars,  do  or  die— 
This  be  our  battle-cry — 
Briarwood  Hall! 
That s  All!" 

With  the  final  word  the  spot-light  winked  out 
and  the  other  lights  of  the  hall  flashed  on.  The 
assembly  of  hooded  and  shrouded  figures  were  re- 
vealed. And  Helen  Cameron,  half  smiling  and 
half  crying,  found  herself  standing  upon  the  plat- 
form before  her  schoolmates  who  had  already 
joined  the  secret  fraternity  known  as  *'  The 
Sweetbriars." 

Beside  her,  and  presiding  over  the  meeting, 
she  found  her  oldest  and  dearest  friend  at  Briar- 
wood Hall — Ruth  Fielding.  A  small  megaphone 
stood  upon  the  table  at  Ruth's  hand,  and  its  use 
had  precluded  Helen's  recognition  of  her  chum's 
voice  as  the  latter  led  in  the  ritual  of  the  frater- 
nity. Like  their  leader,  the  other  Sweetbriars 
had  thrown  back  their  scarlet  hoods,  and  Helen 
recognized  almost  all  of  the  particular  friends 
with  whom  she  had  become  associated  since  she 
had  come — with  Ruth  Fielding — the  autumn  be- 
fore to  Briarwood  Hall. 

The  turning  on  of  the  lights  was  the  signal  for 


AN  INITIATION  5 

general  conversation  and  great  merriment.  It 
was  the  evening  of  the  last  day  but  one  of  the 
school  year,  and  discipline  at  Briarwood  Hall  was 
relaxed  to  a  degree.  However,  the  fraternity  of 
the  Sweetbriars  had  grown  in  favor  with  Mrs. 
Grace  Tellingham,  the  preceptress  of  the  school, 
and  with  the  teachers,  since  its  inception.  Now 
the  fifty  or  more  girls  belonging  to  the  society 
(fully  a  quarter  of  the  school  membership) 
paired  off  to  march  down  to  the  dining  hall,  where 
a  special  collation  was  spread. 

Helen  Cameron  went  down  arm-in-arm  with 
the  president  of  the  S.  B.'s. 

11  Oh,  Ruthie!  "  the  new  member  exclaimed,  "  I 
think  it's  ever  so  nice — much  better  than  the  initi- 
ation of  the  old  Upedes.  I  can  talk  about  them 
now,"  and  she  laughed,  "  because  they  are — as 
Tommy  says — *  busted  all  to  flinders.'  Haven't 
held  a  meeting  for  more  than  a  month,  and  the 
last  time — whisper!  this  is  a  secret,  and  I  guess 
the  last  remaining  secret  of  the  Upedes — there 
were  only  The  Fox  and  I  there !  " 

u  I'm  glad  you're  one  of  us  at  last,  Helen," 
said  Ruth  Fielding,  squeezing  her  chum  as  they 
went  down  the  stairs. 

"  And  I  ought  to  have  been  an  original  mem- 
ber along  with  you,  Ruth,"  said  Helen,  thought- 
fully. "  The  Up  and  Doing  Club  hadn't  half  the 
attractiveness  that  your  society  has " 


6      RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  Don't  call  it  my  society.  We  don't  want  any 
one-girl  club.  That  wis  the  trouble  with  the  Up 
and  Doings — just  as  '  too  much  faculty '  is  the  ob- 
jection to  the  Forward  Club." 

"  Oh,  I  de-test  the  Fussy  Curls  just  as  much  as 
ever/'  declared  Helen,  quicklyT  "  although  Madge 
Steele  is  president." 

"  Well,  we  '  Infants,'  as  they  called  us  last  fall 
when  we  entered  Briarwood,  are  in  control  of  the 
S.  B.'s,  and  we  can  help  each  other,"  said  Ruth, 
with  satisfaction. 

"  But  you  talk  about  the  Upedes  being  a  one- 
girl  club.  I  know  The  Fox  was  all-in-all  in  that. 
But  you're  pretty  near  the  whole  thing  in  the 
S.  B.'s,  Ruthie,"  and  Helen  laughed,  slily.  "  Why, 
they  say  you  wrote  all  the  ritual  and  planned 
everything." 

"Never  mind,"  said  Ruth,  calmly;  "we  can't 
have  a  dictator  in  the  S.  B.'s  without  changing  the 
constitution.  The  same  girl  can't  be  president  for 
more  than  one  year." 

"  But  you  deserve  to  boss  it  all,"  said  her 
chum,  warmly.  "  And  I  for  one  wouldn't  mind 
if  you  did." 

Helen  was  a  very  impulsive,  enthusiastic  girl. 
When  she  and  Ruth  Fielding  had  come  to  Briar- 
wood  Hall  she  had  immediately  taken  up  with  a 
lively  and  thoughtless  set  of  girls  who  had  banded 
themselves  into  the  Up  and  Doing  Club,  and 
whose  leader  was  Mary  Cox,  called  "  The  Fox," 


AN  INITIATION  )- 

because  of  her  shrewdness.  Ruth  had  not  cared 
for  this  particular  society  and,  in  time,  she  and 
most  of  the  other  new  pupils  formed  the  Sweet- 
briar  Club.  Helen  Cameron,  loyal  to  her  first 
friends  at  the  school,  had  not  fallen  away  from 
Mary  Cox  and  joined  the  Sweetbriars  until  this 
very  evening,  which  was,  as  we  have  seen,  the 
evening  before  the  final  day  of  the  school  year. 

Ruth  Fielding  took  the  head  of  the  table  when 
the  girls  sat  down  to  supper  and  the  other  officers 
of  the  club  sat  beside  her.  Helen  was  therefore 
separated  from  her,  and  when  the  party  broke  up 
late  in  the  evening  (the  curfew  bell  at  nine  o'clock 
was  abolished  for  this  one  night)  the  chums  started 
for  their  room  in  the  West  Dormitory  at  differ- 
ent times.  Ruth  went  with  Mercy  Curtis,  who 
was  lame;  outside  the  dining  hall  Helen  chanced 
to  meet  Mary  Cox,  who  had  been  calling  on 
some  party  in  the  East  Dormitory  building. 

"Hello,  Cameron!  "  exclaimed  The  Fox.  "  So 
you've  finally  been  roped  in  by  the  '  Soft  Babies,' 
have  you?  I  thought  that  chum  of  yours — Field- 
ing— would  manage  to  get  you  hobbled  and  tied 
before  vacation." 

11  You  can't  say  I  wasn't  loyal  to  the  Upedes  as 
long  as  there  was  any  society  to  be  loyai  to,"  said 
Helen,  quickly,  and  with  a  flush. 

"Oh,  well;  you'll  be  going  down  to  Heavy's 
seashore  cottage  with  them  now,  I  suppose?" 
said  The  Fox,  still  watching  Helen  curiously. 


8      RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  Why,  of  course !  I  intended  to  before,"  re« 
turned  the  younger  girl.  "  We  all  agreed  about 
that  last  winter  when  we  were  at  Snow  Camp." 

"  Oh,  you  did,  eh?"  laughed  the  other.  "  Well, 
if  you  hadn't  joined  the  Soft  Babies  you  wouldn't 
have  been  *  axed/  when  it  came  time  to  go.  This 
is  going  to  be  an  S.  B.  frolic.  Your  nice  little  Ruth 
Fielding  says  she  won't  go  if  Heavy  invites  any 
but  her  precious  Sweetbriars  to  be  of  the  party." 

"  I  don't  believe  it,  Mary  Cox!  "  cried  Helen. 
"  I  mean,  that  you  must  be  misinformed.  Some- 
body has  maligned  Ruth." 

"  Humph !  Maybe,  but  it  doesn't  look  like  it. 
Who  is  going  to  Lighthouse  Point?"  demanded 
The  Fox,  carelessly.  "  Madge  Steele,  for  al- 
though she  is  president  of  the  Fussy  Curls,  she  is 
likewise  honorary  member  of  the  S.  B.'s." 

"  That  is  so,"  admitted  Helen. 

"  Heavy,  herself,"  pursued  Mary  Cox,  "  Belle 
and  Lluella,  who  have  all  backslid  from  the 
Upedes,  and  yourself." 

"  But  you've  been  invited,"  said  Helen,  quickly. 

"  Not  much.  I  tell  you,  if  you  and  Belle  and 
Lluella  had  not  joined  her  S.  B.'s  you  wouldn't 
have  been  numbered  among  Heavy's  house  party. 
Don't  fool  yourself  on  that  score,"  and  with  an- 
other unpleasant  laugh,  the  older  girl  walked  on 
&nd  left  Helen  in  a  much  perturbed  state  of  mind 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   FOX   AT    WORK 

Ruth  Fielding,  after  the  death  of  her  par- 
ents., when  she  was  quite  a  young  girl,  had  come 
from  Darrowtown  to  live  with  her  mother's  uncle 
at  the  Red  Mill,  on  the  Lumano  River  near  Ches- 
low,  as  was  related  in  the  first  volume  of  this 
series,  entitled,  "  Ruth  Fielding  of  the  Red  Mill; 
Or,  Jasper  Parloe's  Secret."  Ruth  had  found 
Uncle  Jabez  very  hard  to  get  along  with  at  first, 
for  he  was  a  miser,  and  his  kinder  nature  seemed 
to  have  been  crusted  over  by  years  of  hoarding 
and  selfishness. 

But  through  a  happy  turn  of  circumstances 
Ruth  was  enabled  to  get  at  the  heart  of  her  crotch- 
ety uncle,  and  when  Ruth's  very  dear  friend,  Helen 
Cameron,  planned  to  go  to  boarding  school,  Uncle 
Jabez  was  won  over  to  sending  Ruth  with  her. 
The  fun  and  work  of  that  first  half  at  school  are 
related  in  the  second  volume  of  the  series,  entitled 
"  Ruth  Fielding  at  Briarwood  Hall;  Or,  Solving 
the  Campus  Mystery." 

In  the  third  volume  of  the  series,  "  Ruth  Field- 
ing at  Snow  Camp;  Or,  Lost  in  the  Backwoods," 

9 


10    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

Kuth  and  some  of  her  school  friends  spend  a  part 
of  the  mid-winter  vacation  at  Mr.  Cameron's 
hunting  lodge  in  the  Big  Woods,  where  they  enjoy 
many  winter  sports  and  have  adventures  galore. 

Ruth  and  Helen  occupied  a  "  duo  "  room  on 
the  second  floor  of  the  West  Dormitory;  but 
when  Mercy  Curtis,  the  lame  girl,  had  come  to 
Briarwood  in  the  middle  of  the  first  term,  the 
chums  had  taken  her  in  with  them,  the  occupants 
of  that  particular  study  being  known  thereafter 
among  the  girls  of  Briarwood  as  the  Triumvirate. 

Helen,  when  deserted  by  The  Fox,  who,  from 
that  first  day  at  Briarwood  Hall,  had  shown  her- 
self to  be  jealous  of  Ruth  Fielding,  for  some  rea- 
son, went  slowly  up  to  her  room  and  found  Ruth 
and  Mercy  there  before  her.  There  was  likewise 
a  stout,  doll-faced,  jolly  girl  with  them,  known  to 
the  other  girls  as  "  Heavy,"  but  rightly  owning 
the  name  of  Jennie  Stone. 

"  Here  she  is  now ! "  cried  this  latter,  on 
Helen's  appearance.  "  *  The  candidate  will  now 
advance  and  say  her  a-b-abs! '  You  looked  scared 
to  death  when  they  shot  you  with  the  lime-light. 
I  was  chewing  a  caramel  when  they  initiated  me, 
and  I  swallowed  it  whole,  and  pretty  near  choked, 
when  the  spot-light  was  turned  on." 

Mercy,  who  was  a  very  sharp  girl  indeed,  was 
looking  at  Helen  slily.  She  saw  that  something 
had  occasioned  their  friend  annoyance. 


THE  FOX  AT  WORK  u 

"  What's  happened  to  you  since  we  came  from 
the  supper,  Helen?"  she  asked. 

"  Indigestion !  "  gasped  Heavy.  "  I've  some 
pepsin  tablets  in  my  room.    Want  one,  Nell?" 

"No.    I  am  all  right,"  declared  Helen. 

"  Well,  we  were  just  waiting  for  you  to  come 
in,"  the  stout  girl  said.  "  Maybe  we'll  all  be  so 
busy  to-morrow  that  we  won't  have  time  to  talk 
about  it.  So  we  must  plan  for  the  Lighthouse 
Point  campaign  now." 

"  Oh  1  "  said  Helen,  slowly.  "  So  you  can 
make  up  your  party  now?" 

"  Of  course !  Why,  we  really  made  it  up  last 
winter;  didn't  we?  "  laughed  Heavy. 

"  But  we  didn't  know  whether  we  could  go  or 
not  then,"  Ruth  Fielding  said. 

"You  didn't  know  whether  /  could  go,  I  sup- 
pose you  mean?  "  suggested  Helen. 

"  Why — not  particularly,"  responded  Ruth,  in 
some  wonder  at  her  chum's  tone.  "  I  supposed 
you  and  Tom  would  go.  Your  father  so  seldom 
refuses  you  anything." 

"Oh!" 

"  I  didn't  know  how  Uncle  Jabez  would  look 
at  it,"  pursued  Ruth.  "  But  I  wrote  him  a  while 
ago  and  told  him  you  and  Mercy  were  going  to 
accept  Jennie's  invite,  and  he  said  I  could  go  to 
Lighthouse  Point.  tc><x" 

"*Oh!"  said  Helen  again.     "You  didn't  wait 


12    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

until  I  joined  the  S.  B's,  then,  to  decide  whether 
you  would  accept  Heavy's  invitation,  or  not?" 

"Of  course  not!" 

"  How  ridiculous !  "  cried  Heavy. 

"Well,  it's  to  be  a  Sweetbriar  frolic;  isn't  it, 
Heavy?"  asked  Helen,  calmly. 

"No.  Madge  and  Bob  Steele  are  going. 
And  your  brother  Tom,"  chuckled  the  stout  girl. 
"  And  perhaps  that  Isadore  Phelps.  You 
wouldn't  call  Busy  Izzy  a  Sweetbriar;  would 
you?" 

"  I  don't  mean  the  boys,"  returned  Helen,  with 
some  coolness. 

Suddenly  Mercy  Curtis,  her  head  on  one  side 
and  her  thin  little  face  twisted  into  a  most  know- 
ing grimace,  interrupted.  "  I  know  what  this! 
means !  "  she  exclaimed. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Goody  Two-Sticks?" 
demanded  Ruth,  kindly. 

"  Our  Helen  has  a  grouch." 

"Nonsense!  "  muttered  Helen,  flushing  again. 

"  I  thought  something  didn't  fit  her  when  she 
came  in,"  said  Heavy,  calmly.  "  But  I  thought 
it  was  indigestion." 

"What  is  the  matter,  Helen?"  asked  Ruth 
Fielding  in  wonder. 

"  '  Fee,  H,  f o  fum !  I  see  the  negro  run ! ' — 
into  the  woodpile!"  ejaculated  the  lame  girl,  in 
her  biting  way.     "  I  know  what  is  the  matter  with 


THE  FOX  AT  WORK 


*3 


Queen  Helen  of  Troy.  She's  been  with  The 
Fox." 

Ruth  and  Heavy  stared  at  Mercy  in  surprise; 
but  Helen  turned  her  head  aside. 

"That's  the  answer!  "  chuckled  the  shrewd  lit- 
tle creature.  "  I  saw  them  walk  off  together 
after  supper.  And  The  Fox  has  been  trying  to 
make  trouble — same  as  usual." 

"Mary  Cox!  Why,  that's  impossible,"  said 
Heavy,  good-naturedly.  "  She  wouldn't  say  any- 
thing to  make  Helen  feel  bad." 

Mercy  darted  an  accusing  fore-finger  at  Helen, 
and  still  kept  her  eyes  screwed  up.  "  I  dare  you 
to  tell!  I  dare  you  to  tell!  "  she  cried  in  a  sing- 
song voice. 

Helen  had  to  laugh  at  last. 

"  Weil,  Mary  Cox  said  you  had  decided  to  have 
none  but  Sweetbriars  at  the  cottage  on  the  beach, 
Heavy." 

"Lot  she  knows  about  it,"  grunted  the  stout 
girl. 

"Why,  Heavy  asked  her  to  go;  didn't  she?" 
cried  Ruth. 

"Well,  that  was  last  Winter.  I  didn't  press 
her,"  admitted  the  stout  girl. 

"  But  she's  your  roommate,  like  Belle  and 
Lluella,"  said  Ruth,  in  some  heat.  "  Of  course 
you've  got  to  ask  her." 

"Don't  you  do  it.     Shels  a  spoil-sport,"  dp* 


I4    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

clared  Mercy  Curtis,  in  her  sharp  way.  "The 
Fox  will  keep  us  all  in  hot  water." 

"  Do  be  still,  Mercy!  "  cried  Ruth.  "  This  is 
Heavy's  own  affair.  And  Mary  Cox  has  been 
her  roommate  ever  since  she's  been  at  Briar- 
wood." 

"  I  don't  know  that  Belle  and  Lluella  can  go 
with  us,"  said  the  stout  girl,  slowly.  "  The  fright 
they  got  up  in  the  woods  last  Winter  scared  their 
mothers.  I  guess  they  think  I'm  too  reckless. 
Sort  of  wild,  you  know,"  and  the  stout  girl's  smile 
broadened. 

"  But  you  intended  inviting  Mary  Cox?"  de- 
manded Ruth,  steadily. 

"Yes.  I  said  something  about  it  to  her.  But 
she  wouldn't  give  me  a  decided  answer  then." 

"  Ask  her  again." 

"  Don't  you  do  it !  "  exclaimed  Mercy,  sharply* 

"  I  mean  it,  Jennie,"  Ruth  said. 

"  I  can't  please  both  of  you,"  said  the  good- 
natured  stout  girl. 

"  Please  me.  Mercy  doesn't  mean  what  she 
says.  If  Mary  Cox  thinks  that  I  am  opposed  to 
your  having  her  at  Lighthouse  Point,  I  shall  be 
offended  if  you  do  not  immediately  insist  upon  her 
being  one  of  the  party." 

"  And  that'll  suit  The  Fox  right  down  to  the 
ground,"  exclaimed  Mercy.  "  That  is  what  she 
was  fishing  for  when  she  got  at  Helen  to-night." 


THE  FOX  AT  WORK  15 

?c  Did  I  say  she  said  anything  about  Lighthouse 
Point?  "  quickly  responded  Helen. 

"You  didn't  have  to,"  rejoined  Mercy, 
sharply.      "We    knew." 

"  At  least,"  Ruth  said  to  Heavy,  quietly,  yet  with 
decision,  "you  will  ask  your  old  friend  to  go?" 

"  Why — if  you  don't  mind." 

"There  seems  to  have  been  some  truth  in; 
Mary's  supposition,  then,"  Ruth  said,  sadly. 
"  She  thinks  I  intended  to  keep  her  out  of  a  good 
time.  I  never  thought  of  such  a  thing.  If  Mary 
Cox  does  not  accept  your  invitation,  Heavy,  I 
shall  be  greatly  disappointed.  Indeed,  I  shall  be 
tempted  to  decline  to  go  to  the  shore  with  you. 
Now,  remember  that,  Jennie  Stone." 

"  Oh,  shucks !  you're  making  too  much  fuss 
about  it,"  said  the  stout  girl,  rising  lazily,  and 
speaking  in  her  usual  drawling  manner.  "  Of 
course  I'll  have  her — if  she'll  go.  Father's 
bungalow  is  big  enough,  goodness  knows.  And 
we'll  have  lots  of  fun  there." 

She  went  her  leisurely  way  to  the  door.  Had 
she  been  brisker  of  movement,  when  she  turned 
the  knob  she  would  have  found  Mary  Cox  with 
her  ear  at  the  keyhole,  drinking  in  all  that  had 
been  said  in  the  room  of  the  triumvirate.  But 
The  Fox  was  as  swift  of  foot  as  she  was  shrewd 
and  sly  of  mind.  She  was  out  of  sight  and  hear- 
ing when  Jennie  Stone  came  out  into  the  corridor. 


CHAPTER  III 

ON  LAKE  OSAGO 

The  final  day  of  the  school  year  was  always  a 
gala  occasion  at  Briarwood  Hall.  Although 
Ruth  Fielding  and  her  chum,  Helen  Cameron, 
had  finished  only  their  first  year,  they  both  had 
important  places  in  the  exercises  of  graduation. 
Ruth  sang  in  the  special  chorus,  while  Helen 
played  the  violin  in  the  school  orchestra.  Twen- 
ty-four girls  were  in  the  graduating  class.  Briar- 
wood  Hall  prepared  for  Wellesley,  or  any  of  the 
other  female  colleges,  and  when  Mrs.  Grace  Tell- 
ingham,  the  preceptress,  graduated  a  girl  with 
a  certificate  it  meant  that  the  young  lady  was  well 
grounded  in  all  the  branches  that  Briarwood 
taught. 

The  campus  was  crowded  with  friends  of  the 
graduating  class,  and  of  the  Seniors  in  particular. 
It  was  a  very  gay  scene,  for  the  June  day  was  per- 
fect and  the  company  were  brightly  dressed.  The 
girls,  however,  including  the  graduating  class, 
were  dressed  in  white  only.  Mrs.  Tellingham 
had  established  that  custom  some  years  before, 

16 


ON  LAKE  OSAGO  17 

gnd  the  different  classes  were  distinguished  only 
by  the  color  of  their  ribbons. 

Helen  Cameron's  twin  brother,  Tom,  and 
Madge  Steele's  brother,  Bob,  attended  the  Seven 
Oaks  Military  Academy,  not  many  miles  from 
Briarwood.  Their  graduation  exercises  and 
"  Breaking  Up,"  as  the  boys  called  it,  were  one 
day  later  than  the  same  exercises  at  Briarwood. 
So  the  girls  did  not  start  for  home  until  the  morn- 
ing of  the  latter  day. 

Old  Dolliver,  the  stage  driver,  brought  his 
lumbering  stage  to  the  end  of  the  Cedar  Walk  at 
nine  o'clock,  to  which  point  Tony  Foyle,  the  man- 
of-all-work,  had  wheeled  the  girls'  baggage. 
Ruth,  and  Helen,  and  Mercy  Curtis  had  bidden 
their  room  good-bye  and  then  made  the  round  of 
the  teachers  before  this  hour.  They  gathered 
here  to  await  the  stage  with  Jennie  Stone,  Madge 
and  Mary  Cox.  The  latter  had  agreed  to  be  one 
of  the  party  at  Lighthouse  Point  and  was  going 
home  with  Heavy  to  remain  during  the  ensuing 
week,  before  the  seachore  party  should  be  made 
up. 

The  seven  girls  comfortably  filled  the  stage, 
with  their  hand  luggage,  while  the  trunks  and 
suitcases  in  the  boot  and  roped  upon  the  roof 
made  the  Ark  seem  top-heavy.  There  was  a 
crowd,  of  belated  pupils,  and  those  who  lived  in 
the  neighborhood,  to  see  them  off,  and  the  coach 


l8    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

finally  rolled  away  to  the  famous  tune  of  "  Uncle 
Noah,  He  Built  an  Ark,"  wherein  Madge  Steele 
put  her  head  out  of  the  window  and  "  lined  out " 

a  new  verse  to  the  assembled  "  well-wishers  " : 

>. 

"  And  they  didn't  know  where  they  were  at, 
One  wide  river  to  cross  I 
Till  the  Sweetbriars  showed  'em  that  I 
One  wide  river  to  cross! 
One  wide  river! 
One  wide  river  of  Jordan — 
One  wide  river! 
One  wide  river  to  cross!  " 

For  although  Madge  Steele  was  now  president 
of  the  Forward  Club,  a  much  older  school  fra- 
ternity than  the  Sweetbriars,  she  was,  like  Mrs. 
Tellingham,  and  Miss  Picolet,  the  French  teacher, 
and  others  of  the  faculty,  an  honorary  member  of 
the  society  started  by  Ruth  Fielding.  The  Sweet- 
briars,  less  than  one  school  year  old,  was  fast  be- 
coming the  most  popular  organization  at  Briar- 
wood  Hall. 

Mary  Cox  did  not  join  in  the  singing,  nor  did 
she  have  a  word  to  say  to  Ruth  during  the  ride 
to  the  Seven  Oaks  station.  Tom  and  Bob,  with 
lively,  inquisitive,  harum-scarum  Isadore  Phelps 
— "  Busy  Izzy,"  as  his  mates  called  him — were 
at  the  station  to  meet  the  party  from  Briarwood 


ON  LAKE  OSAGO  19 

Hall.  Tom  was  a  dark-skinned,  handsome  lad, 
while  Bob  was  big,  and  flaxen-haired,  and  bash- 
ful. Madge,  his  sister,  called  him  "  Sonny  "  and 
made  believe  he  was  at  the  pinafore  stage  of 
growth  instead  of  being  almost  six  feet  tall  and 
big  in  proportion. 

"Here's  the  dear  little  fellow!"  she  cried, 
Jumping  lightly  out  to  be  hugged  by  the  big  fel- 
low. "  Let  Sister  see  how  he's  grown  since  New 
Year's.  Why,  we'd  hardly  have  known  our 
Bobbins;  would  we,  Ruthie?  Let  me  fix  your 
tie — it's  under  your  ear,  of  course.  Now,  that's 
a  neat  little  boy.  You  can  shake  hands  with 
Ruthie,  and  Helen,  and  Mary,  and  Jennie,  and 
Mercy  Curtis — and  help  Uncle  Noah  get  off  the 
trunks." 

The  three  boys,  being  all  of  the  freshman  class 
at  Seven  Oaks,  had  less  interest  in  the  final  exer- 
cises of  the  term  at  the  Academy  than  the  girls 
had  had  at  Briarwood;  therefore  the  whole  party 
took  a  train  that  brought  them  to  the  landing  at 
Portageton,  on  Osago  Lake,  before  noon.  From 
that  point  the  steamer  Lanawaxa  would  transport 
them  the  length  of  the  lake  to  another  railroad 
over  which  the  young  folks  must  travel  to  reach 
Cheslow. 

At  this  time  of  year  the  great  lake  was  a  beau- 
tiful sight.  Several  lines  of  steamers  plied  upon 
it;  the  summer  resorts  on  the  many  islands  which 


20    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

dotted  it,  and  upon  the  shores  of  the  mainland, 
were  gay  with  flags  and  banners ;  the  sail  up  the 
lake  promised  to  be  a  most  delightful  one. 

And  it  would  have  been  so — delightful  for  the 
whole  party — had  it  not  been  for  a  single  mem- 
ber. The  Fox  could  not  get  over  her  unfriendly 
feeling,  although  Ruth  Fielding  gave  her  no  cause 
at  all.  Ruth  tried  to  talk  to  Mary,  at  first;  but 
finding  the  older  girl  determined  to  be  unpleasant, 
she  let  her  alone. 

On  the  boat  the  three  boys  gathered  camp- 
chairs  for  the  party  up  forward,  and  their  pocket 
money  went  for  candy  and  other  goodies  with 
which  to  treat  their  sisters  and  the  latter's  friends. 
There  were  not  many  people  aboard  the  Lana- 
waxa  on  this  trip  and  the  young  folks  going  home 
from  school  had  the  forward  upper  deck  to  them- 
selves. There  was  a  stiff  breeze  blowing  that 
drove  the  other  passengers  into  the  inclosed 
cabins. 

But  the  girls  and  their  escorts  were  in  high 
spirits.  As  Madge  Steele  declared,  "  they  had 
slipped  the  scholastic  collar  for  ten  long  weeks." 

"  And  if  we  can't  find  a  plenty  of  fun  in  that 
time  it's  our  own  fault,"  observed  Heavy — having 
some  trouble  with  her  articulation  because  of  the 
candy  in  her  mouth.  " Thanks  be  to  goodness! 
no  rising  bell — no  curfew — no  getting  anywhere 
&t  any  particular  time.     Oh,  I'm  just  going  to  Hq 


ON  LAKE  OSAGO                            21 
in  the  sand  all  day,  when  we  get  to  the  Point " 


"And  have  your  meals  brought  to  you, 
Heavy?"  queried  Ruth,  slily. 

"  Never  you  mind  about  the  meals,  Miss. 
Mammy  Laura's  going  down  with  us  to  cook, 
and  if  there's  one  thing  Mammy  Laura  loves  to 
do,  it's  to  cook  messes  for  me — and  bring  them  to 
me.  She's  always  been  afraid  that  my  health  was 
delicate  and  that  I  needed  more  nourishing  food 
than  the  rest  of  the  family.  Such  custards! 
Urn!  urn!" 

"  Do  go  down  and  see  if  there  is  anything  left 
on  the  lunch  counter,  boys,"  begged  Helen, 
anxiously.  "  Otherwise  we  won't  get  Heavy 
home  alive." 

"  I  am  a  little  bit  hungry,  having  had  no  din- 
ner," admitted  the  stout  girl,  reflectively. 

The  boys  went  off,  laughing.  "  She's  so 
feeble !  "  cried  Mary  Cox,  pinching  the  stout  girl. 
"  We  never  should  travel  with  her  alone.  There 
ought  to  be  a  trained  nurse  and  a  physician  along. 
I'm  worried  to  death  about  her " 

*;Ouch!  stop  your  pinching!"  commanded 
Jennie,  and  rose  up  rather  suddenly,  for  her,  to 
give  chase  to  her  tormentor. 

The  Fox  was  as  quick  as  a  cat,  and  Heavy  was 
lubberly  in  her  movements.  /The  lighter  girl, 
laughing  shrilly,  ran  forward  and  vaulted  over 
the  low  rail  that  separated  the  awning-covered 


22    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

upper  deck  from  the  unrailed  roof  of  the  lower 
deck  forward. 

"You'd  better  come  back  from  there! "  Ruth 
cried,  instantly.     "  It's  wet  and  slippery." 

The  Fox  turned  on  her  instantly,  her  face 
flushed  and  her  eyes  snapping. 

"  Mind  your  business,  Miss !  "  she  cried,  stamp- 
ing her  foot.     "  I  can  look  out " 

Her  foot  slipped.  Heavy  thoughtlessly 
laughed.  None  of  them  really  thought  of  danger 
save  Ruth.  But  Mary  Cox  lost  her  foothold, 
slid  toward  the  edge  of  the  sloping  deck,  and  the 
next  instant,  as  the  Lanawaxa  plunged  a  little 
sideways  (for  the  sharp  breeze  had  raised  quite 
a  little  sea)  The  Fox  shot  over  the  brink  of  the 
deck  and,  with  a  scream,  disappeared  feet  first 
into  the  lake. 

It  all  happened  so  quickly  that  nobody  but  the 
group  of  girls  on  the  forward  deck  had  seen  the 
accident.  And  Madge,  Heavy  and  Helen  were 
all  helpless — so  frightened  that  they  could  only 
cry  out. 

"  She  can't  swim !  "  gasped  Helen.  "  She'll  be 
drowned." 

"  The  paddle-wheel  will  hit  her ! "  added 
Madge. 

"Oh!  where  are  those  useless  boys?"  de- 
manded the  stout  girl.  "They're  never  around 
when  they  could  be  of  use." 


ON  LAKE  OSAGO  23 

But  Ruth  said  never  a  word.  The  emer- 
gency appealed  to  her  quite  as  seriously  as  it 
did  to  her  friends.  But  she  knew  that  if  Mary 
Cox  was  to  be  saved  they  must  act  at  once. 

She  flung  off  her  cap  and  light  outside  coat. 
She  wore  only  canvas  shoes,  and  easily  kicked 
them  off  and  ran,  in  her  stocking-feet,  toward  the 
paddle-box.  Onto  this  she  climbed  by  the  short 
ladder  and  sprang  out  upon  its  top  just  as  The 
Fox  came  up  after  her  plunge. 

By  great  good  fortune  the  imperiled  girl  had 
been  carried  beyond  the  paddles.  But  the  Lana- 
waxa  was  steaming  swiftly  past  the  girl  in  the 
water.  Ruth  knew  very  well  that  Mary  Cox 
could  not  swim.  She  was  one  of  the  few  girls  at 
Briarwood  who  had  been  unable  to  learn  that  ac- 
complishment, under  the  school  instructor,  in  the 
gymnasium  pool.  Whereas  Ruth  herself  had 
taken  to  the  art  "  like  a  duck  to  water." 

Mary's  face  appeared  but  for  a  moment  above 
the  surface.  Ruth  saw  it,  pale  and  despairing; 
then  a  wave  washed  over  it  and  the  girl  dis- 
appeared for  a  second  time. 


CHAPTER  IV 

TROUBLE  AT  THE  RED  MILL 

The  screams  of  the  other  girls  had  brought 
several  of  the  male  passengers  as  well  as  some  of 
the  boat's  crew  to  the  forward  deck.  Mercy  Cur- 
tis, who  had  lain  down  in  a  stateroom  to  rest, 
drew  back  the  blind  and  saw  Ruth  poised  on  the 
wheel-box. 

"  Don't  you  do  that,  Ruth  Fielding!  "  cried  the 
lame  girl,  who  knew  instinctively  what  her  friend's 
intention  was. 

But  Ruth  paid  no  more  attention  to  her  than 
she  had  to  the  other  girls.  She  was  wearing  a 
heavy  serge  skirt,  and  she  knew  it  would  hamper 
her  in  the  water.  With  nimble  fingers  she  un- 
fastened this  and  dropped  it  upon  the  deck. 
Then,  without  an  instant's  hesitation,  she  sprang 
far  out  from  the  steamer,  her  body  shooting 
straight  down,  feet-first,  to  the  water. 

Ruth  was  aware  as  she  shot  downward  that 
Tom  Cameron  was  at  the  rail  over  her  head. 
The  Lanawaxa  swept  by  and  he,  having  run 
astern,  leaned  over  and  shouted  to  her.  She  had 
a  glimpse  of  something  swinging  out  from  the 

24 


TROUBLE  AT  THE  RED   MILL  25 

rail,  too,  and  dropping  after  her  into  the  lake, 
and  as  the  water  closed  over  her  head  she  realized 
that  he  had  thrown  one  of  the  lifebuoys. 

But  deep  as  the  water  was,  Ruth  had  no  fear 
for  herself.  She  loved  to  swim  and  the  instructor 
at  Briarwood  had  praised  her  skill.  The  only 
anxiety  she  had  as  she  sank  beneath  the  surface 
was  for  Mary  Cox,  who  had  already  gone  down 
twice. 

She  had  leaped  into  the  lake  near  where  The 
Fox  had  disappeared.  Once  beneath  the  sur- 
face, Ruth  opened  her  eyes  and  saw  the  shadow 
of  some  body  in  the  water  ahead.  Three  strokes 
brought  her  within  reach  of  it.  She  seized  Mary 
Cox  by  the  hair,  and  although  her  school  fellow 
was  still  sinking,  Ruth,  with  sturdy  strokes,  drew 
her  up  to  the  surface. 

What  a  blessing  it  was  to  obtain  a  draught  of 
pure  air!  But  The  Fox  was  unconscious,  and 
Ruth  had  to  bear  her  weight  up,  while  treading 
water,  until  she  could  dash  the  drops  from  her 
eyes.  There  was  the  lifebuoy  not  ten  yards  away. 
She  struck  out  for  it  with  one  hand,  while  towing 
Mary  with  the  other.  Long  before  the  steamer 
had  been  stopped  and  a  boat  lowered  and  manned, 
Ruth  and  her  burden  reached  the  great  ring,  and 
the  girls  were  comparatively  safe. 

Tom  Cameron  came  in  the  boat,  having  forced 
himself  in  with  the  crew,  and  it  was  he  who 


26    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

hauled  Mary  Cox  over  the  gunwale,  and  then 
aided  Ruth  into  the  boat. 

"  That's  the  second  time  you've  saved  that  girl 
from  drowning,  Ruth,"  he  gasped.  "The  first 
time  was  last  Fall  when  you  and  I  hauled  her  out 
of  the  hole  in  the  ice  on  Triton  Lake.  And  now 
she  would  have  gone  down  and  stayed  down  if 
you  hadn't  dived  for  her.  Now !  don't  you  ever 
do  it  again !  "  concluded  the  excited  lad. 

Had  Ruth  not  been  so  breathless  she  must  have 
laughed  at  him;  but  there  really  was  a  serious 
side  to  the  adventure.  Mary  Cox  did  not  re- 
cover her  senses  until  after  they  were  aboard  the 
steamer.  Ruth  was  taken  in  hand  by  a  steward- 
ess, undressed  and  put  between  blankets,  and  her 
clothing  dried  and  made  presentable  before  the 
steamer  docked  at  the  head  of  the  lake. 

As  Tom  Cameron  had  said,  Mary  Cox  had 
fallen  through  the  ice  early  in  the  previous  Winter, 
and  Ruth  had  aided  in  rescuing  her;  The  Fox 
had  never  even  thanked  the  girl  from  the  Red 
Mill  for  such  aid.  And  now  Ruth  shrank  from 
meeting  her  and  being  thankei  on  this  occasion. 
Ruth  had  to  admit  to  herself  that  she  looked  for- 
ward with  less  pleasure  to  the  visit  to  the  seashore 
with  Heavy  because  Mary  Cox  was  to  be  of  the 
party.  She  could  not  like  The  Fox,  and  she 
really  had  ample  reason. 

The  other  girls  ran  into  the  room  where  Rutb 


TROUBLE  AT  THE  RED  MILL  27 

was  and  reported  when  Mary  became  conscious, 
and  how  the  doctor  said  that  she  would  never 
have  come  up  to  the  surface  again,  she  had  taken 
so  much  water  into  her  lungs,  had  not  Ruth 
grasped  her.  They  had  some  difficulty  in  bring- 
ing The  Fox  to  her  senses. 

"  And  aren't  you  the  brave  one,  Ruthie  Field- 
ing! "  cried  Heavy.  "  Why,  Mary  Cox  owes  her 
life  to  you — she  actually  does  this  time.  Be- 
fore, when  you  and  Tom  Cameron  helped  her 
put  of  the  water,  she  acted  nasty  about  it " 

"  Hush,  Jennie !  "  commanded  Ruth.  "  Don't 
say  another  word  about  it  If  I  had  not  jumped 
into  the  lake  after  Mary,  somebody  else  would." 

"  Pshaw !  "  cried  Heavy,  "  you  can't  get  out 
of  it  that  way.  And  I'm  glad  it  happened.  Now 
we  shall  have  a  nice  time  at  Lighthouse  Point, 
for  Mary  can't  be  anything  but  fond  of  you, 
child!" 

Ruth,  however,  had  her  doubts.  She  remained 
in  the  stateroom  as  long  as  she  could  after  the 
Lanawaxa  docked.  When  she  was  dressed  and 
came  out  on  the  deck  the  train  that  took  Heavy 
and  The  Fox  and  the  Steeles  and  Busy  Izzy  home, 
had  gone.  The  train  to  Cheslow  started  a  few, 
minutes  later. 

"  Come  on,  Miss  Heroine !  "  said  Tom,  grin- 
ning at  her  as  she  came  out  on  the  deck.  "  You 
needn't  be  afraid  now.     Nobody  will  thank  you. 


28    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

I  didn't  hear  her  say  a  grateful  word  myself— 
and  I  bet  you  won't,  either!  " 

Helen  said  nothing  at  all  about  The  Fox;  but 
she  looked  grave.  The  former  president  of  the 
Upedes  had  influenced  Helen  a  great  deal  during 
this  first  year  at  boarding  school.  Had  Ruth 
Fielding  been  a  less  patient  and  less  faithful 
chum,  Helen  and  she  would  have  drifted  apart. 
And  perhaps  an  occasional  sharp  speech  from 
Mercy  was  what  had  served  more  particularly  to 
show  Helen  how  she  was  drifting.  Now  the 
lame  girl  observed: 

"The  next  time  you  see  Mary  Cox  fall  over- 
board, Ruth,  I  hope  you'll  let  her  swallow  the 
whole  pond,  and  walk  ashore  without  your  help." 

"  If  your  name  is  '  Mercy '  you  show  none  to 
either  your  friends  or  enemies;  do  you?"  re- 
turned Ruth,  smiling. 

The  girl  from  the  Red  Mill  refused  to  discuss 
the  matter  further,  and  soon  had  them  all  talking 
upon  a  pleasanter  theme.  It  was  evening  when 
they  reached  Cheslow  and  Mercy's  father,  of 
course,  who  was  the  station  agent,  and  Mr.  Cam- 
eron, were  waiting  for  them. 

The  big  touring  car  belonging  to  the  dry-goods 
merchant  was  waiting  for  the  young  folk,  and 
after  they  had  dropped  Mercy  Curtis  at  the  little 
Cottage  on  the  by-street,  the  machine  traveled 
swiftly  across  the   railroad  and  out  into  the 


TROUBLE  AT  THE  RED  MILL  29 

suburbs  of  the  town.  The  Red  Mill  was  five 
miles  from  the  railroad  station,  while  the  Cam- 
erons'  fine  home,  "  Outlook,"  stood  some  distance 
beyond. 

Before  they  had  gotten  out  of  town,  however, 
the  car  was  held  up  in  front  of  a  big  house  set 
some  distance  back  from  the  road,  and  before 
which,  on  either  side  of  the  arched  gateway,  was 
a  green  lamp.  The  lamps  were  already  lighted 
and  as  the  Cameron  car  came  purring  along  the 
street,  with  Helen  herself  under  the  steering 
wheel  (for  she  had  begged  the  privilege  of  run- 
ning it  home)  a  tall  figure  came  hurrying  out  of 
the  gateway,  signaling  them  to  stop. 

"It's  Doctor  Davison  himself!"  cried  Ruth, 
in  some  excitement. 

11  And  how  are  all  the  Sweetbriars?  "  demanded 
the  good  old  physician,  their  staunch  friend  and 
confidant.  "  Ah,  Tom,  my  {ine  fellow !  have  they 
drilled  that  stoop  out  of  your  shoulders?" 

"  We're  all  right,  Dr.  Davison — and  awfully 
glad  to  see  you,"  cried  Ruth,  leaning  out  of  the 
tonneau  to  shake  hands  with  him. 

"  Ah !  here's  the  sunshine  of  the  Red  Mill— ■ 
and  they're  needing  sunshine  there,  just  now,  I 
believe,"  said  the  doctor.  Did  you  bring  my 
Goody  Two-Sticks  home  all  right  ?  " 

"She's  all  right,  Doctor,"  Helen  assured  him* 
,wAnd  so  are  we — only  Ruth's  been  in  the  lake." 


30    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"InLakeOsago?" 

"Yes,  sir — and  it  was  wet,"  Tom  told  him, 
grinning. 

"  I  suppose  she  was  trying  to  find  that  out,"  re- 
turned Dr.  Davison.  "  Did  you  get  -anything 
else  out  of  it,  Ruthie  Fielding?  " 

"  A  girl,"  replied  Ruth,  rather  tartly. 

"  Oh-ho !  Well,  that  was  something,"  began 
the  doctor,  when  Ruth  stopped  him  with  an  abrupt 
question: 

"  Why  do  you  say  that  they  need  me  at  home, 
sir?" 

"Why — honey — they're  always  glad  to  have 
you  there,  I  reckon,"  said  the  doctor,  slowly. 
"  Uncle  Jabez  and  Aunt  Alviry  will  both  be  glad 
to  see  you " 

"  There's  trouble,  sir;  what  is  it?  "  asked  Ruth, 
gravely,  leaning  out  of  the  car  so  as  to  speak  into 
his  ear.  "There  is  trouble;  isn't  there?  What 
is  it?" 

"  I  don't  know  that  I  can  exactly  tell  you, 
Ruthie,"  he  replied,  with  gravity.  "  But  it's 
there.     You'll  see  it." 

"Aunt  Alviry " 

"Is  all  right." 

"Then  it's  Uncle  Jabez?" 

"  Yes,  my  child.  It  is  Uncle  Jabez.  What  it 
is  you  will  have  to  find  out,  I  am  afraid,  for  / 
have  not  been  able  to,"  said  the  doctor,  in  a  whis- 


TROUBLE  AT  THE  RED   MILL,  3B 

per.     "  Maybe  it  is  given  to  you,  my  dear,  to 
straighten  out  the  tangles  at  the  Red  Mill." 

He  invited  them  all  down  to  sample  Old 
Mammy's  cakes  and  lemonade  the  first  pleasant 
afternoon,  and  then  the  car  sped  on.  But  Ruth 
was  silent.  What  she  might  find  at  the  Red 
Mill  troubled  her. 


CHAPTER  V 

THE    TINTACKER    MINE 

It  was  too  late  to  more  than  see  the  outlines 
of  the  mill  and  connecting  buildings  as  the  car 
rushed  down  the  hill  toward  the  river  road,  be- 
tween which  and  the  river  itself,  and  standing  on 
a  knoll,  the  Red  Mill  was.  Ruth  could  imagine 
just  how  it  looked — all  in  dull  red  paint  and  clean 
white  trimmings.  Miserly  as  Jabez  Potter  was 
about  many  things,  he  always  kept  his  property 
in  excellent  shape,  and  the  mill  and  farmhouse, 
with  the  adjoining  outbuildings,  were  painted 
every  Spring. 

A  lamp  burned  in  the  kitchen;  but  all  else  was 
dark  about  the  place. 

"  Don't  look  very  lively,  Ruth,"  said  Tom.  "  I 
don't  believe  they  expect  you." 

But  even  as  he  spoke  the  door  opened,  and  a 
broad  beam  of  yellow  lamplight  shot  out  across 
the  porch  and  down  the  path.  A  little,  bent  fig- 
ure was  silhouetted  in  the  glow. 

"  There's  Aunt  Alviry !  "  cried  Ruth,  in  delight. 
"I  know  she's  all  right." 

"  All  excepting  her  back  and  her  bones,"  whis- 
32 


THE  TINTACKER  MINE  33 

pered  Helen.  "  Now,  Ruthie !  don't  you  let  any- 
thing happen  to  veto  our  trip  to  Heavy's  seaside 
cottage." 

"Oh!  don't  suggest  such  a  thing!"  cried  her 
brother. 

But  Ruth  ran  up  the  path  after  bidding  them 
good-night,  with  her  heart  fast  beating.  Dr. 
Davison's  warning  had  prepared  her  for  almost 
any  untoward  happening. 

But  Aunt  Alvirah  only  looked  delighted  to  see 
the  girl  as  Ruth  ran  into  her  arms.  Aunt  Al- 
virah was  a  friendless  old  woman  whose  latter 
years  would  have  been  spent  at  the  Cheslow  Alms- 
house had  not  Jabez  Potter  taken  her  to  keep 
house  for  him  more  than  ten  years  before.  Ill- 
natured  people  said  that  the  miller  had  done  this 
to  save  paying  a  housekeeper;  but  in  Aunt  Al- 
virah's  opinion  it  was  an  instance  of  Mr.  Potter's 
kindness  of  heart. 

"You  pretty  creetur!"  cried  Aunt  Alvirah, 
hugging  Ruth  close  to  her.  "  And  how  you've 
growed!  What  a  smart  girl  you  are  getting  to 
be!  Deary,  deary  me!  how  I  have  longed  for 
you  to  git  back,  Ruthie.  Come  in!  Come  in! 
Oh,  my  back  and  oh,  my  bones !  "  she  complained, 
under  her  breath,  as  she  hobbled  into  the  house. 

"How's  the  rheumatics,  Aunty?"  asked  Ruth. 

"  Just  the  same,  deary.  Up  one  day,  and  down 
the  next.     Alius  will  be  so,  I  reckon.     I'd  be  too 


34    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

proud  to  live  if  I  didn't  have  my  aches  and  pains 
— Oh,  my  back  and  oh,  my  bones !  "  as  she  low- 
ered herself  into  her  rocker. 

"Where's  Uncle  Jabez?"  cried  Ruth. 
'   "Sh!"    admonished    Aunt    Alvirah.     "Don't 
holler,    child.       You'll    disturb    him." 

"  Not  sick?"  whispered  Ruth,  in  amazement. 

"  No — o.  Not  sick  o'  body,  I  reckon,  child," 
returned  Aunt  Alvirah. 

"  What  is  it,  Aunt  Alviry?  What's  the  mat- 
ter with  him?"  pursued  the  girl,  anxiously. 

"  He's  sick  o'  soul,  I  reckon,"  whispered  the 
old  woman.  "  Sumpin's  gone  wrong  with  him. 
You  know  how  Jabez  is.     It's  money  matters." 

"  Oh,  has  he  been  robbed  again?"  cried  Ruth. 

"  Sh!  not  jest  like  that.  Not  like  what  Jasper 
Parloe  did  to  him.  But  it's  jest  as  bad  for  Jabez, 
I  reckon.  Anyway,  he  takes  it  jest  as  hard  as  he 
did  when  his  cash-box  was  lost  that  time.  But 
you  know  how  close-mouthed  he  is,  Ruthie.  He 
won't  talk  about  it." 

"About  what?"  demanded  Ruth,  earnestly. 

Aunt  Alvirah  rose  with  difficulty  from  her  chair 
and,  with  her  usual  murmured  complaint  of  "  Oh, 
my  back  and  oh,  my  bones !  "  went  to  the  door 
which  led  to  the  passage.  Off  this  passage  Uncle 
Jabez's  room  opened.  She  closed  the  door  and 
hobbled  back  to  her  chair,  but  halted  before  sit- 
ting down. 


THE  TINTACKER  MINE  35 

"I  never  thought  to  ask  ye,  deary,"  she  said. 
"Ye  must  be  very  hungry.  Ye  ain't  had  no 
supper." 

81  You  sit  right  down  there  and  keep  still,"  said 
Ruth,  smiling  as  she  removed  her  coat.  "  I  guess 
I  can  find  something  to  eat." 

"  Well,  there's  cocoa.  You  make  you  a  warm 
drink.  There's  plenty  of  pie  and  cake — and 
there's  eggs  and  ham  if  you  want  them." 

11  Don't  you  fret  about  me,"  repeated  Ruth. 

"  What  makes  you  so  mussed  up?  "  demanded 
Aunt  Alvirah,  the  next  moment.  "Why,  Ruth 
Fielding!  have  you  been  in  the  water?" 

"  Yes,  ma'am.  But  you  know  water  doesn't 
hurt  me." 

"  Dear  child!  how  reckless  you  are!  Did  you 
fall  in  the  lake?" 

"  No,  Aunty.  I  jumped  In,"  returned  the  girl, 
and  then  told  her  briefly  about  her  adventure  on 
the  Lanawaxa. 

"Goodness  me!  Goodness  me!"  exclaimed 
Aunt  Alvirah.  "  Whatever  would  your  uncle  say 
if  he  knew  about  it?  " 

"And  what  is  the  matter  with  Uncle  Jabez?" 
demanded  Ruth,  sitting  down  at  the  end  of  the 
table  to  eat  her  "  bite."  "  You  haven't  told  me 
that." 

"I  'lowed  to  do  so,"  sighed  the  old  woman. 
"But  I  don't  want  him  to  hear  us  a-gossipin' 


36    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

about  it.     You  know  how  Jabez  is.     I  dunno  as 
he  knows  /  know  what  I  know " 

"  That  sounds  just  like  a  riddle,  Aunt  Al- 
virah!  "  laughed  Ruth. 

"  And  I  reckon  it  is  a  riddle,"  she  said.  "  I 
only  know  from  piecin'  this,  that,  and  t'other  to- 
gether; but  I  reckon  I  fin'ly  got  it  pretty  straight 
about  the  Tintacker  Mine — and  your  uncle's  lost 
a  power  o'  money  by  it,  Ruthie." 

"What's  the  Tintacker  Mine?"  demanded 
Ruth,  in  wonder. 

It's  a  silver  mine.  I  dunno  where  it  is,  'ceptin' 
it's  fur  out  West  and  that  your  uncle  put  a  lot  of 
money  into  it  and  he  can't  git  it  out." 

"Why  not?" 

"  'Cause  it's  busted,  I  reckon." 

"  The  mine's  '  busted  '?  "  repeated  the  puzzled 
Ruth. 

"  Yes.  Or  so  I  s'pect.  I'll  tell  ye  how  it  come 
about.  The  feller  come  along  here  not  long 
after  you  went  to  school  last  Fall,  Ruthie." 

"What  fellow?"  asked  Ruth,  trying  to  get  at 
the  meat  in  the  nut,  for  Aunt  Alvrrah  was  very 
discursive. 

"  Now,  you  lemme  tell  it  my  own  way, 
Ruthie,"  admonished  the  old  woman.  "You 
would  better,"  and  the  girl  laughed,  and  nodded. 
"  It  was  one  day  when  I  was  sweepin'  the  sittin' 
room — ye  know,  what  Mercy  Curtis  had  for  hec 


THE  TINTACKER  MINE  37 

bedroom  while  she  was  out  here  last  Summer." 

Ruth  nodded  again  encouragingly,  and  the  lit- 
tle old  woman  went  on  in  her  usual  rambling 
way: 

"I  was  a-sweepin',  as  I  say,  and  Jabez  come 

■  by  and  put  his  head  in  at  the  winder.       '  That's 

'  too  hard  for  ye,  Alviry,'  says  he.     '  Let  the  dust 

be — it  ain't  eatin'  nothinV     Jest  like  a  man,  ye 

know! 

"  '  Well/  says  I,  '  if  I  didn't  sweep  onc't  in  a 
while,  Jabez,  we'd  be  wadin'  to  our  boot-tops  in 
dirt.'  Like  that,  ye  know,  Ruthie.  And  he  says, 
1  They  hev  things  nowadays  for  suckin'  up  the 
dirt,  instead  of  kickin'  it  up  that-a-way,'  and 
with  that  a  voice  says  right  in  the  yard,  '  You're 
right  there,  Mister.  An'  I  got  one  of  'em  here 
to  sell  ye.' 

"  There  was  a  young  feller  in  the  yard  with  a 
funny  lookin'  rig-a-ma-jig  in  his  hand,  and  his 
hat  on  the  back  of  his  head,  and  lookin'  jest  as 
busy  as  a  toad  that's  swallered  a  hornet.  My! 
you  wouldn't  think  that  feller  had  a  minnit  ter 
stay,  the  way  he  acted.  Scurcely  had  time  to  sell 
Jabez  one  of  them  *  Vac-o-jacs,'  as  he  called  'em." 

"A  vacuum  cleaner!"  exclaimed  Ruth. 

"  That's  something  like  it.  Only  it  was  like  a 
carpet-sweeper,  too.  I  seen  pitchers  of  'em  in  the 
back  of  a  magazine  onc't.  I  never  b'lieved  they 
5vas  for  more'n  ornament;  but  that  spry  young 


38    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POIN* 

feller  come  in  and  worked  it  for  me,  and  he  sucked 
up  the  dust  out  o1  that  ingrain  carpet  till  ye 
couldn't  beat  a  particle  out  o'  it  with  an  ox-goad! 

"But  I  didn't  seem  ter  favor  that  Vac-o-jac 
none,"  continued  Aunt  Alvirah.  "  Ye  know  how 
close-grained  yer  Uncle  is.  I  don't  expect  him 
ter  buy  no  fancy  fixin's  for  an  ol'  creetur  like  me. 
But  at  noon  time  he  come  in  and  set  one  o'  the 
machines  in  the  corner.', 

"He  bought  it!"  cried  Ruth. 

11  That's  what  he  done.  He  says,  '  Alviry,  ef 
it's  any  good  to  ye,  there  it  is!  I  calkerlate  that'9 
a  smart  young  man.  He  got  five  dollars  out  o* 
me  easier  than  /  ever  got  five  dollars  out  of  a 
man  in  all  my  days.' 

"  I  tell  ye  truthful,  Ruthie !  I  can't  use  it  by 
myself.  It  works  too  hard  for  anybody  that's 
got  my  back  and  bones.  But  Ben,  he  comes  in 
once  in  a  while  and  works  it  for  me.  I  reckon 
your  uncle  sends  him." 

"But,  Aunt  Alviry!"  cried  Ruth.  "What 
about  the  Tintacker  Mine?  You  haven't  told  me 
a  thing  about  that!9 

"  But  I'm  a-comin'  to  it,"  declared  the  old 
woman.  "  It's  all  of  a  piece — that  and  the  Vac- 
o-jac.  I  seen  the  same  young  feller  that  sold 
Jabez  the  sweeper  hangin'  about  the  mill  a  good 
bit.  And  nights  Jabez  figgered  up  his  accounts 
and  counted  his  money  till  'way  long  past  mid- 


THE  TINTACKER  MINE  39 

night  sometimes.  Bimeby  he  says  to  me,  one 
day: 

"'Alviry,  that  Vac-o-jac  works  all  right; 
don't  it?' 

"  I  didn't  want  to  tell  him  it  was  hard  to  work? 
and  it  does  take  up  the  dirt,  so  I  says  '  Yes.' 

" '  Then  I  reckon  I'll  give  the  boy  the  benefit 
of  the  doubt,  and  say  he's  honest,'  says  Jabez. 

"  I  didn't  know  what  he  meant,  and  I  didn't 
ask.  'Twouldn't  be  my  place  ter  ask  Jabez  Pot- 
ter his  business — you  know  that,  Ruthie.  So  1 
jest  watched  and  in  a  day  or  two  back  come  the 
young  sweeper  feller  again,  and  we  had  him  to 
dinner.  This  was  long  before  Thanksgivin'. 
They  sat  at  the  table  after  dinner  and  I  heard 
'em  talking  about  the  mine." 

"  Ah-ha ! "  exclaimed  Ruth,  with  a  smile. 
**Now  we  come  to  the  mine,  do  we?" 

"  I  told  you  it  was  all  of  a  piece,"  said  Aunt 
Alvirah,  complacently.  "  Well,  it  seemed  that 
the  boy's  father — this  agent  warn't  more  than  a 
boy,  but  maybe  he  was  a  sharper,  jest  the  same — 
the  boy's  father  and  another  man  found  the  mine. 
Prospected  for  it,  did  they  say?" 

"That  is  probably  the  word,"  agreed  Ruth, 
much  interested. 

"  Well,  anyhow,  they  found  it  and  got  out 
some  silver.  Then  the  boy's  father  bought  out 
the  other  man.     Then  he  stopped  finding  silver  in 


40    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

it.  And  then  he  died,  and  left  the  mine  to  his 
folks.  But  the  boy  went  out  there  and  rummaged 
around  the  mine  and  found  that  there  was  still 
plenty  of  silver,  only  it  had  to  be  treated — or  put 
through  something — a  pro — a  prospect " 

"  Process?  "  suggested  Ruth. 

"  That's  it,  deary.  Some  process  to  refine  the 
silver,  or  git  it  out  of  the  ore,  or  something.  It 
was  all  about  chemicals  and  machinery,  and  all 
that.  Your  Uncle  Jabez  seemed  to  understand 
it,  but  it  was  all  Dutch  to  me,"  declared  Aunt  Ai- 
virah. 

"Well,  what  happened?" 

"  Why,"  continued  the  old  woman,  "  the  Tin- 
tacker  Mine,  as  the  feller  called  it,  couldn't  be 
made  to  pay  without  machinery  being  bought,  and 
all  that.  He  had  to  take  in  a  partner,  he  said. 
And  I  jedge  your  Uncle  Jabez  bought  into  the 
mine.  Now,  for  all  I  kin  hear,  there  ain't  no 
mine,  or  no  silver,  or  no  nothin'.  Leastwise,  the 
young  feller  can't  be  heard  from,  and  Jabez  has 
lost  his  money — and  a  big  sum  it  is,  Ruthie.  It's 
hurt  him  so  that  he's  got  smaller  and  smaller  than 
ever.  Begrudges  the  very  vittles  we  have  on  the 
table,  I  believe.  I'm  afraid,  deary,  that  unless 
there's  a  change  he  won't  want  you  to  keep  on  at 
that  school  you're  going  to,  it's  so  expensive,"  and 
Aunt  Alvirah  gathered  the  startled  girl  into  her 
arms  and  rocked  her  to  and  fro  on  her  bosom. 


THE  TINTACKER  MINE  41 

"That's  what  I  was  comin'  to,  deary,"  she 
sobbed.  "  I  had  ter  tell  ye ;  he  told  me  I  must. 
Ye  can't  go  back  to  Briarwood,  Ruthie,  when  it 
comes  Fall. 


CHAPTER  VI 

v. 

UNCLE  JABEZ  AT  HIS  WORST 

It  was  true  that  Mr.  Potter  had  promised  Ruth 
only  one  year  at  school.  The  miller  considered 
he  owed  his  grand-niece  something  for  finding  and 
restoring  to  him  his  cash-box  which  he  had  lost, 
and  which  contained  considerable  money  and  the 
stocks  and  bonds  in  which  he  had  invested.  Jabez 
Potter  prided  himself  on  being  strictly  honest. 
He  was  just  according  to  his  own  notion.  He 
owed  Ruth  something  for  what  she  had  done — 
something  more  than  her  "  board  and  keep  " — 
and  he  had  paid  the  debt.     Or,  so  he  considered. 

There  had  been  a  time  when  Uncle  Jabez 
seemed  to  be  less  miserly.  His  hard  old  heart 
had  warmed  toward  his  niece — or,  so  Ruth  be- 
lieved. And  he  had  taken  a  deep  interest — for 
him — in  Mercy  Curtis,  the  lame  girl.  Ruth 
knew  that  Uncle  Jabez  and  Dr.  Davison  together 
had  made  it  possible  for  Mercy  to  attend  Briar- 
wood  Hall.  Of  course,  Uncle  Jabez  would  cut 
off  that  charity  as  well,  and  the  few  tears  Ruth 
cried  that  night  after  she  went  to  bed  were  as 
much  for  Mercy's  disappointment  as  for  her 
own. 

42 


UNCLE  JABEZ  AT  HIS   WORST  43 

"  But  maybe  Dr.  Davison  will  assume  the  en- 
tire cost  of  keeping  Mercy  at  school,"  thought  the 
girl  of  the  Red  Mill.  "  Or,  perhaps,  Mr.  Curtis 
may  have  paid  the  debts  he  contracted  while 
Mercy  was  so  ill,  and  will  be  able  to  help  pay  her 
expenses  at  Briarwood." 

But  about  herself  she  could  have  no  such  hope. 
She  knew  that  the  cost  of  her  schooling  had  been 
considerable.  Nor  had  Uncle  Jabez  been  nig- 
gardly with  her  about  expenditures.  He  had  given 
her  a  ten-dollar  bill  for  spending  money  at  the  be- 
ginning of  each  half;  and  twice  during  the  school 
year  had  sent  her  an  extra  five-dollar  bill.  Her 
board  and  tuition  for  the  year  had  cost  over  three 
hundred  dollars;  it  would  cost  more  the  coming 
year.  If  Uncle  Jabez  had  actually  lost  money  in 
this  Tintacker  Mine  Ruth  could  be  sure  that  he 
meant  what  he  had  left  to  Aunt  Alvirah  to  tell 
her.    He  would  not  pay  for  another  school  year. 

But  Ruth  was  a  persevering  little  body  and  she 
came  of  determined  folk.  She  had  continued  at 
the  district  school  when  the  circumstances  were 
much  against  her.  Now,  having  had  a  taste  of 
Briarwood  for  one  year,  she  was  the  more  anxious 
to  keep  on  for  three  years  more.  Besides,  there 
was  the  vision  of  college  beyond!  She  knew  that 
if  she  remained  at  home,  all  she  could  look  for* 
Ward  to  was  to  take  Aunt  Alvirah's  place  as  her 
ancle's  housekeeper.     She  would  have  no  chance 


44    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

to  get  ahead  in  life.  Life  at  the  Red  Mill  seemed 
a  very  narrow  outlook  indeed. 

Ruth  meant  to  get  an  education.  Somehow 
(there  were  ten  long  weeks  of  Summer  vacation 
before  her)  she  must  think  up  a  scheme  for  earn- 
ing the  money  necessary  to  pay  for  her  second 
year's  tuition.  Three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars! 
that  was  a  great,  great  sum  for  a  girl  of  Ruth 
Fielding's  years  to  attempt  to  earn.  How  should 
she  "  begin  to  go  about  it "  ?  It  looked  an  im- 
possible task. 

But  Ruth  possessed  a  fund  of  good  sense.  She 
was  practical,  if  imaginative,  and  she  was  just 
sanguine  enough  to  keep  her  temper  sweet. 
Lying  awake  and  worrying  over  it  wasn't  going 
to  do  her  a  bit  of  good;  she  knew  that.  There- 
fore she  did  not  indulge  herself  long,  but  wiped 
away  her  tears,  snuggled  down  into  the  pillow, 
and  dropped  asleep. 

In  the  morning  she  saw  Uncle  Jabez  when  she 
came  down  stairs.  The  stove  smoked  and  he 
was  growling  about  it. 

"  Good  morning,  Uncle !  "  she  cried  and  ran  to 
him  and  threw  her  arms  around  his  neck  and 
kissed  him — whether  he  would  be  kissed,  or  not! 

"  There !  there !  so  you're  home ;  are  you  ?  "  he 
growled. 

Ruth  was  glad  to  notice  that  he  called  it  her 
home.     She  knew  that  he  did  not  want  a  word  to 


UNCLE  JABEZ  AT  HIS  WORST  45 

be  said  about  what  Aunt  Alvirah  had  told  her 
over  night,  and  she  set  about  smoothing  matters 
over  in  her  usual  way. 

14  You  go  on  and  'tend  to  your  outside  chores, 
Uncle,"  she  commanded.  "  I'll  build  this  fire  in 
a  jiffy." 

44  Huh !  I  reckon  you've  forgotten  how  to  build 
a  kitchen  fire — livin'  so  long  in  a  steam-heated 
room,"  he  grunted. 

"Now,  don't  you  believe  that!"  she  assured 
him,  and  running  out  to  the  shed  for  a  handful  of 
fat-pine,  or  "  lightwood,"  soon  had  the  stove 
roaring  comfortably. 

44  What  a  comfort  you  be,  my  pretty  creetur," 
sighed  Aunt  Alvirah,  as  she  hobbled  down  stairs. 
"  Oh,  my  back  and  oh,  my  bones !  This  is  going 
to  be  a  creaky  day.     I  feel  the  dampness." 

"  Don't  you  believe  it,  Aunty!  "  cried  the  girl. 
44  The  sun's  going  to  come  out  and  drive  away 
every  atom  of  this  mist.     Cheer  up!  " 

And  she  was  that  way  all  day;  but  deep  down 
in  her  heart  there  was  a  very  tender  spot  indeed, 
and  in  her  mind  the  thought  of  giving  up  Briar- 
wood  rankled  like  a  barbed  arrow.  She  would 
not  give  it  up  if  she  could  help.  But  how  ever 
could  she  earn  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars? 
The  idea  seemed  preposterous. 

Aside  from  being  with  Aunt  Alvirah,  and  help- 
ing her,  Ruth's  homecoming  was  not  at  all  as  she 


46    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  UGHTHOUSE  POINT 

had  hoped  it  would  be.  Uncle  Jabez  was  more 
taciturn  than  ever,  it  seemed  to  the  girl.  She 
could  not  break  through  the  crust  of  his  manner.. 
If  she  followed  him  to  the  mill,  he  was  too  busy 
to  talk,  or  the  grinding-stones  made  so  much  noise 
that  talking  was  impossible.  At  night  he  did  not 
even  remain  in  the  kitchen  to  count  up  the  day's 
gains  and  to  study  his  accounts.  Instead,  he  re- 
tired with  the  cash-box  and  ledger  to  his  own 
room. 

She  found  no  opportunity  of  opening  any  dis- 
cussion about  Briarwood,  or  about  the  mysterious 
Tintacker  Mine,  upon  which  subject  Aunt  Al- 
virah  had  been  so  voluble.  If  the  old  man  had 
lost  money  in  the  scheme,  he  was  determined  to 
give  her  no  information  at  first  hand  about  it. 

At  first  she  was  doubtful  whether  she  should 
go  to  Lighthouse  Point.  Indeed,  she  was  not 
sure  that  she  could  go.  She  had  no  money.  But 
before  the  week  was  out  at  dinner  one  day  Uncle 
Jabez  pushed  a  twenty-dollar  bill  across  the  table 
to  her,  and  said: 

"  I  said  ye  should  go  down  there  to  the  sea- 
side for  a  spell,  Ruth.  Make  that  money  do  ye," 
and  before  she  could  either  thank  him  or  refuse 
the  money,  Uncle  Jabez  stumped  out  of  the  house. 

In  the  afternoon  Helen  drove  over  in  the  pony 
carriage  to  take  Ruth  to  town,  so  the  latter  could 
assure  her  chum  that  she  would  go  to  Lighthouse 
Point  and  be  one   of  Jennie  Stone's  bungalov 


UNCLE  JABEZ  AT  HIS  WORST  47 

party.  They  called  on  Dr.  Davison  and  the  girl 
from  the  Red  Mill  managed  to  get  a  word  in  pri- 
vate with  the  first  friend  she  had  made  on  her  ar- 
rival at  Cheslow  (barring  Tom  Cameron's 
mastiff,  Reno)  and  told  him  of  conditions  as  she 
had  found  them  at  home. 

"  So,  it  looks  as  though  I  had  got  to  make  my 
own  way  through  school,  Doctor,  and  it  troubles 
me  a  whole  lot,"  Ruth  said  to  the  grave  physician. 
"  But  what  bothers  me,  too,  is  Mercy " 

"  Don't  worry  about  Goody  Two-Sticks,"  re- 
turned the  doctor,  quickly.  "  Your  uncle  served 
notice  on  me  a  week  before  you  came  home  that 
he  could  not  help  to  put  her  through  Briarwood 
beyond  this  term  that  is  closed.  I  told  him  he 
needn't  bother.  Sam  Curtis  is  in  better  shape 
than  he  was,  and  we'll  manage  to  find  the  money 
to  put  that  sharp  little  girl  of  his  where  she  can 
get  all  the  education  she  can  possibly  soak  in. 
But  you,  Ruth " 

"  I'm  going  to  find  a  way,  too,"  declared  Ruth, 
independently,  yet  secretly  feeling  much  less  con- 
fidence than  she  appeared  to  have. 

Mercy  was  all  ready  for  the  seaside  party 
when  the  girls  called  at  the  Curtis  cottage.  The 
lame  girl  was  in  her  summer  house,  sewing  and 
singing  softly  to  herself.  She  no  longer  glared 
at  the  children  as  they  ran  by,  or  shook  her  fist 
at  them  as  she  used  to,  because  they  could  dance 
and  she  could  not. 


48    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

On  Monday  they  would  start  for  the  shore, 
meeting  Heavy  and  the  others  on  the  train,  and 
spending  a  good  part  of  the  day  riding  to  Light- 
house Point.  Mr.  Cameron  had  exercised  his  in- 
fluence with  certain  railroad  officials  and  obtained 
a  private  car  for  the  young  folk.  The  Cameron 
twins  and  Ruth  and  Mercy  would  get  aboard  the 
car  at  Cheslow,  and  Jennie  Stone  and  her  other 
guests  would  join  them  at  Jennie's  home  town. 

Between  that  day  and  the  time  of  her  departure 
Ruth  tried  to  get  closer  to  Uncle  Jabez;  but  the 
miller  went  about  with  lowering  brow  and  scarcely 
spoke  to  either  Ruth  or  Aunt  Alvirah. 

"  It's  jest  as  well  ye  air  goin'  away  again  so 
quick,  my  pretty,"  said  the  old  woman,  sadly. 
"  When  Jabez  gits  one  o'  these  moods  on  him 
there  ain't  nobody  understands  him  so  well  as  me. 
I  don't  mind  if  he  don't  speak.  I  talk  right  out 
loud  what  I  have  to  say  an'  he  can  hear  an'  re- 
ply, or  hear  an'  keep  dumb,  jest  whichever  he 
likes.  They  say  '  hard  words  don't  break  no 
bones'  an'  sure  enough  bein'  as  dumb  as  an  oys- 
ter ain't  hurtin'  none,  either.  You  go  'long  an' 
have  your  fun  with  your  mates,  Ruthie.  Mebbe 
Jabez  will  be  over  his  grouch  when  you  come 
back." 

But  Ruth  was  afraid  that  the  miller  would 
change  but  little  unless  there  was  first  an  emphatic 
betterment  in  the  affairs  of  the  Tintacker  Mine. 


CHAPTER  VII 

THE  SIGNAL  GUN 

The  train  did  not  slow  down  for  Sandtown  un- 
til after  mid-afternoon,  and  when  the  party  of 
young  folk  alighted  from  the  private  car  there 
were  still  five  miles  of  heavy  roads  between  them 
and  Lighthouse  Point.  It  had  been  pleasant 
enough  when  Ruth  Fielding  and  her  companions 
left  Cheslow,  far  up  in  New  York  State;  but  now 
to  the  south  and  east  the  heavens  were  masked  by 
heavy,  lead-colored  clouds,  and  the  wind  came 
from  the  sea  in  wild,  rain-burdened  gusts. 

"  My!  how  sharp  it  is!  "  cried  Ruth.  "  And 
it's  salt!" 

"  The  salt's  in  the  air — especially  when  there 
is  a  storm  at  sea,"  explained  Heavy.  "  And  I 
guess  we've  landed  just  in  time  to  see  a  gale.  I 
hope  it  won't  last  long  and  spoil  our  good  time." 

11  Oh,  but  to  see  the  ocean  in  a  storm — that 
will  be  great!"  cried  Madge  Steele. 

The  Stones'  house  had  been  open  for  some 
days  and  there  were  two  wagons  in  readiness  for 
the  party.  The  three  boys  and  the  baggage  went 
in  one,  while  the  five  girls  crowded  into  the  other 

49 


50    RUTH   FIELDING  AT   LIGHTHOUSE   POINT 

and  both  wagons  were  driven  promptly  toward 
the  shore. 

The  girls  were  just  as  eager  as  they  could  be, 
and  chattered  like  magpies.  All  but  Mary  Cox. 
She  had  been  much  unlike  her  usual  self  all  day. 
When  she  had  joined  the  party  in  the  private  car 
that  morning,  Ruth  noticed  that  The  Fox  looked 
unhappy.  Her  eyes  were  swollen  as  though  she 
had  been  weeping  and  she  had  very  little  to  say. 

For  one  thing  Ruth  was  really  thankful.  The 
Fox  said  nothing  to  her  about  the  accident  on  the 
Lanawaxa.  She  may  have  been  grateful  for 
Ruth's  timely  assistance  when  she  fell  into  Lake 
Osago;  but  she  succeeded  in  effectually  hiding  her 
gratitude. 

Heavy,  however,  confided  to  Ruth  that  Mary 
had  found  sore  trouble  at  home  when  she  returned 
from  Briarwood.  Her  father  had  died  the  year 
before  and  left  his  business  affairs  in  a  tangle. 
Mary's  older  brother,  John,  had  left  college  and 
set  about  straightening  out  matters.  And  now 
something  serious  had  happened  to  John.  He 
had  gone  away  on  business  and  for  weeks  his 
mother  had  heard  nothing  from  him. 

"  I  didn't  know  but  Mary  would  give  up  com- 
ing with  us — just  as  Lluella  and  Belle  did,"  said 
the  stout  girl.  "  But  there  is  nothing  she  can  do  at 
home,  and  I  urged  her  to  come.  We  must  all 
try  to  make  it  particularly  pleasant  for  her." 


THE  SIGNAL  GUN  51 

Ruth  was  perfectly  willing  to  do  her  share;  but 
one  can  scarcely  make  it  pleasant  for  a  person 
Who  refuses  to  speak  to  one.  And  the  girl  from 
the  Red  Mill  could  not  help  feeling  that  The  Fox 
had  done  her  best  to  make  her  withdraw  from 
Jennie  Stone's  party. 

The  sea  was  not  in  sight  until  the  wagons  had 
been  driven  more  than  half  the  distance  to  the 
Stone  bungalow.  Then,  suddenly  rounding  a 
sandy  hill,  they  saw  the  wide  sweep  of  the  ocean 
in  the  distance,  and  the  small  and  quieter  harbor 
on  the  inviting  shore  of  which  the  bungalow  was 
built. 

Out  upon  the  far  point  of  this  nearer  sandy 
ridge  was  built  the  white  shaft  of  the  Sokennet 
Light.  Sokennet  village  lay  upon  the  other  side 
of  the  harbor.  On  this  side  a  few  summer  homes 
had  been  erected,  and  beyond  the  lighthouse  was 
a  low,  wind-swept  building  which  Heavy  told  the 
girls  was  the  life  saving  station. 

"  We'll  have  lots  of  fun  down  there.  Cap'n 
Abinadab  Cope  is  just  the  nicest  old  man  you 
ever  saw !  "  declared  Heavy.  "  And  he  can  tell 
the  most  thrilling  stories  of  wrecks  along  the 
I  coast.  And  there's  the  station  'day  book'  that 
records  everything  they  do,  from  the  number  of 
pounds  of  coal  and  gallons  of  kerosene  used  each 
day,  to  how  they  save  whole  shiploads  of  peo- 
ple  " 


52    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"Let's  ask  him  to  save  a  shipload  for  our 
especial  benefit,"  laughed  Madge.  u  I  suppose 
there's  only  one  wreck  in  fifteen  or  twenty  years, 
hereabout." 

"  Nothing  of  the  kind!  Sometimes  there  are  a 
dozen  in  one  winter.  And  lots  of  times  the  surf- 
men  go  off  in  a  boat  and  save  ships  from  being 
wrecked.  In  a  fog,  you  know.  Ships  get  lost  in 
a  fog  sometimes,  just  as  folks  get  lost  in  a  for- 
est  " 

"  Or  In  a  blizzard,"  cried  Helen,  with  a  lively 
remembrance  of  their  last  winter's  experience  at 
Snow  Camp. 

"  Nothing  like  that  will  happen  here,  you 
know,"  said  Ruth,  laughing.  "  Heavy  promised 
that  we  shouldn't  be  lost  in  a  snowstorm  at  Light- 
house Point." 

"But  hear  the  sea  roar!"  murmured  Mary 
Cox.     "Oh!  look  at  the  waves!  " 

They  had  now  come  to  where  they  could  see 
the  surf  breaking  over  a  ledge,  or  reef,  off  the 
shore  some  half-mile.  The  breakers  piled  up  as 
high — seemingly — as  a  tall  house ;  and  when  they 
burst  upon  the  rock  they  completely  hid  it  for  the 
time. 

"  Did  you  ever  see  such  a  sight!  "  cried  Madge. 
"  '  The  sea  in  its  might ' !" 

The  gusts  of  rain  came  more  plentifully  as  they 
rode  on,  and  so  rough  did  the  wind  become,  th$ 


THE  SIGNAL  GUN  53 

girls  were  rather  glad  when  the  wagons  drove  in 
at  the  gateway  of  the  Stone  place. 

Immediately  around  the  house  the  owner  had 
coaxed  some  grass  to  grow — at  an  expense,  so 
Jennie  said,  of  about  "  a  dollar  a  blade. "  But 
everywhere  else  was  the  sand — cream-colored, 
yellow,  gray  and  drab,  or  slate  where  the  water 
washed  over  it  and  left  it  glistening. 

The  entrance  was  at  the  rear;  the  bungalow 
faced  the  cove,  standing  on  a  ridge  which — as  has 
been  before  said — continued  far  out  to  the  light- 
house. 

"  And  a  woman  keeps  the  light.  Her  husband 
kept  it  for  many,  many  years;  but  he  died  a  year 
ago  and  the  government  has  continued  her  as 
keeper.  She's  a  nice  old  lady,  is  Mother  Purling, 
and  she  can  tell  stories,  too,  that  will  make  your 
hair  curl !  " 

"  I'm  going  over  there  right  away,"  declared 
Mary,  who  had  begun  to  be  her  old  self  again. 
"  Mine  is  as  straight  as  an  Indian's." 

"  A  woman  alone  in  a  lighthouse !  isn't  that 
great?"  cried  Helen. 

"She  is  alone  sometimes;  but  there  is  an  assist- 
ant keeper.  His  name  is  Crab — and  that's  what 
he  is!  "  declared  Heavy. 

"  Oh,  I  can  see  right  now  that  we're  going  to 
have  great  fun  here,"  observed  Madge. 

This  final  conversation  was  carried  on  after 


34    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

the  girls  had  run  into  the  house  for  shelter  from 
a  sharp  gust  of  rain,  and  had  been  taken  upstairs 
by  their  hostess  to  the  two  big  rooms  in  the  front 
of  the  bungalow  which  they  were  to  sleep  in. 
From  the  windows  they  could  see  across  the  cove 
to  the  village  and  note  all  the  fishing  and  pleasure 
boats  bobbing  at  their  moorings. 

Right  below  them  was  a  long  dock  built  out 
from  Mr.  Stone's  property,  and  behind  it  was 
moored  a  motor-launch,  a  catboat,  and  two  row- 
boats — quite  a  little  fleet. 

"  You  see,  there  isn't  a  sail  in  the  harbor — nor 
outside.  That  shows  that  the  storm  now  blowing 
up  is  bound  to  be  a  stiff  one,"  explained  Heavy. 
"  For  the  fishermen  of  Sokennet  are  as  daring  as 
any  on  the  coast,  and  I  have  often  seen  them  run 
out  to  the  banks  into  what  looked  to  be  the  very 
teeth  of  a  gale!  " 

Meanwhile,  the  boys  had  been  shown  to  a  good- 
sized  room  at  the  back  of  the  house,  and  they  were 
already  down  again  and  outside,  breasting  the  in- 
termittent squalls  from  the  sea.  They  had  no 
curls  and  furbelows  to  arrange,  and  ran  all  about 
the  place  before  dinner  time. 

But  ere  that  time  arrived  the  night  had  shut 
down.  The  storm  clouds  hung  low  and  threat- 
ened a  heavy  rainfall  at  any  moment.  Off  on  the 
horizon  was  a  livid  streak  "which  seemed  to  divide 
the  heavy  ocean  from  the  wind-thrashed  clouds. 


THE   SIGNAL  GUN  55 

The  company  that  gathered  about  the  dinner 
table  was  a  lively  one,  even  if  the  wind  did  shriek 
outside  and  the  thunder  of  the  surf  kept  up  a  con- 
tinual accompaniment  to  their  conversation — like 
the  deeper  notes  of  a  mighty  organ.  Mr.  Stone, 
himself,  was  not  present;  but  one  of  Heavy's 
young  aunts  had  come  down  to  oversee  the  party, 
and  she  was  no  wet  blanket  upon  the  fun. 

Of  course,  the  "  goodies  "  on  the  table  were 
many.  Trust  Heavy  for  that.  The  old  black 
cook,  who  had  been  in  the  Stone  family  for  a  gen- 
eration, doted  on  the  stout  girl  and  would  cook 
all  day  to  please  her  young  mistress. 

They  had  come  to  the  dessert  course  when 
suddenly  Tom  Cameron  half  started  from  his 
chair  and  held  up  a  hand  for  silence. 

"What's  the  matter,  Tommy?"  demanded 
Busy  Izzy,  inquisitively.     "What  do  you  hear?  " 

"Listen!"  commanded  Tom. 

The  hilarity  ceased  suddenly,  and  all  those  at 
the  table  listened  intently.  The  sudden  hush 
made  the  noise  of  the  elements  seem  greater. 

"What  did  you  hear?"  finally  asked  his  sister. 

"  A  gun — there !  " 

A  distant,  reverberating  sound  was  repeated. 
They  all  heard  it.  Heavy  and  her  aunt,  Miss 
Kate,  glanced  at  each  other  with  sudden  compre- 
hension. 

"What  is  it?  "Ruth  cried. 


56    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  UGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  It's  a  signal  gun,"  Heavy  said,  rather  weakly. 

"  A  ship  in  distress,,"  explained  Miss  Kate,  and 
her  tone  hushed  their  clamor. 

A  third  time  the  report  sounded.  The  dining 
room  door  opened  and  the  butler  entered. 

"  What  is  it,  Maxwell?  "  asked  Miss  Kate, 

"A  ship  on  the  Second  Reef,  Miss,"  he  said 
hurriedly.  "She  was  sighted  just  before  dark, 
driving  in.  But  it  was  plain  that  she  was  help- 
less, and  had  gone  broadside  on  to  the  rock. 
She'll  break  up  before  morning,  the  fishermen 
say.  It  will  be  an  awful  wreck,  ma'am,  for  there 
is  no  chance  of  the  sea  going  down." 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE  LIFEBOAT  IS   LAUNCHED 

The  announcement  quelled  all  the  jollity  of  the 
party  on  the  instant.  Heavy  even  lost  interest  in 
the  sweetmeats  before  her. 

"  Goodness  me !  what  a  terrible  thing,"  cried 
Helen  Cameron.     "  A  ship  on  the  rocks !  " 

"  Let's  go  see  it!  "  Busy  Izzy  cried. 

11  Tf  we  can,"  said  Tom.  "  Is  it  possible,  Miss 
Kate?" 

Heavy's  aunt  looked  at  the  butler  for  informa- 
tion. He  was  one  of  those  well-trained  servants 
who  make  it  their  business  to  know  everything. 

"  I  can  have  the  ponies  put  into  the  long  buck- 
board.  The  young  ladies  can  drive  to  the  sta- 
tion; the  young  gentlemen  can  walk.  It  is  not 
raining  very  hard  at  present." 

Mercy  elected  to  remain  in  the  house  with  Miss 
Kate.  The  other  girls  were  just  as  anxious  to 
go  to  the  beach  as  the  boys.  There  were  no 
timid  ones  in  the  party. 

But  when  they  came  down,  dressed  in  rainy- 
weather  garments,  and  saw  the  man  standing  at 
the  ponies'  heads,  glistening  in  wet  rubber,  if  one 

57 


58    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  UGHT  HOUSE  POINT 

had  withdrawn  probably  all  would  have  given  up 
the  venture.  The  boys  had  already  gone  on 
ahead,  and  the  ship's  gun  sounded  mournfully 
through  the  wild  night,  at  short  intervals. 

They  piled  into  the  three  seats  of  the  buck- 
board,  Ruth  sitting  beside  the  driver.  The  ponies 
dashed  away  along  the  sandy  road.  It  was  two 
miles  to  the  life  saving  station.  They  passed  the 
three  boys  when  they  were  only  half  way  to  their 
destination. 

"  Tell  'em  not  to  save  all  the  people  from  the 
wreck  till  we  get  there!  "  shouted  Tom  Cameron. 

None  of  the  visitors  to  Lighthouse  Point  real- 
ized the  seriousness  of  the  happening  as  yet. 
They  were  yet  to  see  for  the  first  time  a  good 
ship  battering  her  life  out  against  the  cruel  rocks. 

Nor  did  the  girls  see  the  wreck  at  first,  for  a 
pall  of  darkness  lay  upon  the  sea.  There  were 
lights  in  the  station  and  a  huge  fire  of  driftwood 
burned  on  the  beach.  Around  this  they  saw  fig- 
ures moving,  and  Heavy  said,  as  she  alighted: 

11  We'll  go  right  down  there.  There  are  some 
women  and  children  already — see?  Sam  will  put 
the  horses  under  the  shed  here." 

The  five  girls  locked  arms  and  ran  around  the 
station.  When  they  came  to  the  front  of  the 
building,  a  great  door  was  wheeled  back  at  one 
side  and  men  in  oilskins  were  seen  moving  about 
a  boat  in  the  shed.     The  lifeboat  was  on  a  truck 


THE  LIFEBOAT  LAUNCHED  59 

and  they  were  just  getting  ready  to  haul  her  down 
to  the  beach. 

"And  the  wreck  must  have  struck  nearly  an 
hour  ago !  "  cried  Madge.  "  How  slow  they 
are." 

"  No,"  said  Heavy  thoughtfully.  "  It  is  July 
now,  and  Uncle  Sam  doesn't  believe  there  will  be 
any  wrecks  along  this  coast  until  September.  In 
the  summer  Cap'n  Abinadab  keeps  the  station 
alone.  It  took  some  time  to-night  to  find  a  crew 
— and  possibly  some  of  these  men  are  volun- 
teers." 

But  now  that  the  life  savers  had  got  on  the 
ground,  they  went  to  work  with  a  briskness  and 
skill  that  impressed  the  onlookers.  They  tailed 
onto  the  drag  rope  and  hauled  the  long,  glistening 
white  boat  down  to  the  very  edge  of  the  sea.  The 
wind  was  directly  onshore,  and  it  was  a  fight  to 
stand  against  it,  let  alone  to  haul  such  a  heavy 
truck  through  the  wet  sand. 

Suddenly  there  was  a  glow  at  sea  and  the  guri 
boomed  out  again.  Then  a  pale  signal  light 
burned  on  the  deck  of  the  foundered  vessel.  As 
the  light  grew  those  ashore  could  see  her  lower 
rigging  and  the  broken  masts  and  spars.  She  lay 
over  toward  the  shore  and  her  deck  seemed  a  snarl 
of  lumber.  Between  the  reef  and  the  beach,  too, 
the  water  was  a-foul  with  wreckage  and  planks 
of  all  sizes. 


60    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  Lumber-laden,  boys — and  her  deck  load's 
broke  loose !  "  shouted  one  man. 

The  surf  roared  in  upon  the  sands,  and  then 
sucked  out  again  with  a  whine  which  made  Ruth 
shudder.  The  sea  seemed  like  some  huge,  raven- 
ing beast  eager  for  its  prey. 

"  How  can  they  ever  launch  the  boat  into  those 
waves?"  Ruth  asked  of  Heavy. 

11  Oh,  they  know  how,"  returned  the  stout  girl. 

But  the  life  savers  were  in  conference  about 
their  captain.  He  was  a  short,  sturdy  old  man6 
with  a  squarely  trimmed  "  paint-brush  "  beard. 
The  girls  drew  nearer  to  the  group  and  heard  one, 
of  the  surfmen  say: 

"We'll  smash  her,  Cap,  sure  as  you're  born! 
Those  planks  are  charging  in  like  battering- 
rams." 

"  We'll  try  it,  Mason,"  returned  Cap'n  Abina- 
dab.  "  I  don't  believe  we  can  shoot  a  line  to  her 
against  this  gale.     Ready!  " 

The  captain  got  in  at  the  stern  and  the  others 
took  their  places  in  the  boat.  Each  man  had  a 
cork  belt  strapped  around  his  body  under  his  arms. 
There  were  a  dozen  other  men  to  launch  fhe  life- 
boat into  the  surf  when  the  captain  ga\e  the 
word. 

He  stood  up  and  watched  the  breakers  rolling 
in.  As  a  huge  one  curved  over  and  broke  in  a 
smother  of  foam  and  spray  he  shouted  some  com- 


THE  LIFEBOAT  LAUNCHED  6l 

mand  which  the  helpers  understood.  The  boat 
started,  truck  and  all,  and  immediately  the  men 
launching  her  were  waist  deep  in  the  surging,  hiss- 
ing sea. 

The  returning  billow  carried  the  boat  off  the 
truck,  and  the  lifeboatmen  plunged  in  their  oars 
and  pulled.  Their  short  sharp  strokes  were  in 
such  unison  that  the  men  seemed  moved  by  the 
same  mind.  The  long  boat  shot  away  from  the 
beach  and  mounted  the  incoming  wave  like  a 
cork. 

The  men  ashore  drew  back  the  boat-truck  out 
of  the  way.  The  lifeboat  seemed  to  hang  on 
that  wave  as  though  hesitating  to  take  the  plunge. 
Ruth  thought  that  it  would  be  cast  back — a  wreck 
itself — upon  the  beach. 

But  suddenly  it  again  sprang  forward,  and  the 
curling  surf  hid  boat  and  men  for  a  full  minute 
from  the  gaze  of  those  on  shore.  The  girls  clung 
together  and  gazed  eagerly  out  into  the  shifting 
shadows  that  overspread  the  riotous  sea. 

"They've  sunk!"  gasped  Helen. 

"No,  no!"  cried  Heavy.  "There!  see 
them?" 

The  boat's  bow  rose  to  meet  the  next  wave. 
They  saw  the  men  pulling  as  steadily  as  though 
the  sea  were  smooth.  Old  Cap'n  Abinadab  still 
stood  upright  In  the  stern,  grasping  the  heavy 
steering  oar. 


62    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"I've  read,"  said  Ruth,  more  quietly,  "that 
these  lifeboats  are  unsinkable — unless  they  are 
completely  wrecked.  Water-tight  compartments, 
you  know." 

"  That's  vight,  Miss,"  said  one  of  the  men 
nearby.  "  She  can't  sink.  But  she  can  be 
smashed — Ah !  " 

A  shout  came  back  to  them  from  the  sea.  The 
wind  whipped  the  cry  past  them  in  a  most  eyrie 
fashion. 

"  Cap'n  Abinadab  shouting  to  the  men,"  ex- 
plained Heavy,  breathlessly. 

Suddenly  another  signal  light  was  touched  off 
upon  the  wreck.  The  growing  light  flickered  over 
the  entire  expanse  of  lumber-littered  sea  between 
the  reef  and  the  beach.  They  could  see  the  life- 
boat more  clearly. 

She  rose  and  sank,  rose  and  sank,  upon  wave 
atter  wave,  all  the  time  fighting  her  way  out  from 
the  shore.  Again  and  again  they  heard  the  awe- 
some cry.  The  captain  was  warning  his  men  how 
to  pull  to  escape  the  charging  timbers. 

The  next  breaker  that  rolled  in  brought  with 
it  several  great  planks  that  were  dashed  upon  the 
beach  with  fearful  force.  The  splinters  flew  into 
the  air,  the  wind  whipping  them  across  the  sands. 
The  anxious  spectators  had  to  dodge. 

The  timbers  ground  together  as  the  sea  sucked 
tthem  back.     Again  and  again  they  were  rolled 


THE  LIFEBOAT  LAUNCHED  63 

5n  the  surf,  splintering  against  each  other  sav- 
agely. 

11  One  of  those  would  go  through  that  boat 
like  she  was  made  of  paper i';'  bawled  one  of 
the  fishermen. 

At  that  moment  they  saw  the  lifeboat  lifted 
upon  another  huge  wave.  She  was  a  full  cable's 
length  from  the  shore,  advancing  very  slowly. 
In  the  glare  of  the  Coston  light  the  anxious  spec- 
tators saw  her  swerve  to  port  to  escape  a  huge 
timber  which  charged  upon  her. 

The  girls  screamed.  The  great  stick  struck 
the  lifeboat  a  glancing  blow.  In  an  instant  she 
swung  broadside  to  the  waves,  and  then  rolled 
over  and  over  in  the  trough  of  the  sea. 

A  chorus  of  shouts  and  groans  went  up  from 
the  crowd  on  shore.  The  lifeboat  and  her  coura- 
geous crew  had  disappeared. 


CHAPTER   IX 

THE  GIRL  IN  THE  RIGGING 

"Oh!  isn't  it  awful!"  cried  Helen,  clinging 
to  Ruth  Fielding.     "  I  wish  I  hadn't  come." 

"They're  lost!"  quavered  Mary  Cox. 
"They're  drowned!" 

But  Heavy  was  more  practical.  "  They  can't 
drown  so  easily — with  those  cork-vests  on  'em. 
There !  the  boat's  righted." 

It  was  a  fact.  Much  nearer  the  shore,  it  was 
true,  but  the  lifeboat  was  again  right  side  up. 
They  saw  the  men  creep  in  over  her  sides  and 
seize  the  oars  which  had  been  made  fast  to  her 
so  that  they  could  not  be  lost. 

But  the  lifeboat  was  not  so  buoyant,  and  it  was 
plain  that  she  had  been  seriously  injured.  Cap'n 
Abinadab  dared  not  go  on  to  the  wreck. 

"  That  timber  mashed  her  in  for'ard,"  de- 
clared a  fisherman  standing  near  the  girls. 
"  They've  got  to  give  it  up  this  time." 

"Can't  steer  in  such  a  clutter  of  wreckage," 
declared  another.  "  Not  with  an  oared  boat. 
She  ought  to  be  a  motor.  Every  other  station 
<on  this  coast,  from  Macklin  to  Cape  Brender, 

6* 


THE  GIRL  IN  THE  RIGGING  65 

has  a  lifeboat  driven  by  a  motor.  Sokennet  alius 
has  to  take  other  folks'  leavin's." 

Helplessly  the  lifeboat  drifted  shoreward. 
The  girls  watched  her,  almost  holding  their 
breath  with  excitement.  The  three  boys  raced 
Hown  to  the  beach  now  and  joined  them. 

"Crickey!"  yelped  little  Isadore  Phelps. 
"We're  almost  too  late  to  see  the  fun!" 

"Hush!"  commanded  Ruth,  sharply. 

11  Your  idea  of  fun,  young  man,  is  very  much 
warped,"  Madge  Steele  added. 

"Haven't  they  got  the  wrecked  people  off?" 
demanded  Tom,  in  wonder. 

At  the  moment  an  added  Coston  burned  up 
on  the  wreck.  Its  uncertain  glare  revealed  the 
shrouds  and  torn  lower  rigging.  They  saw  sev- 
eral figures — outlined  in  the  glaring  light — lashed 
to  the  stays  and  broken  spars.  The  craft  was 
a  schooner,  lumber-laden,  and  the  sea  had  now 
cast  her  so  far  over  on  her  beam-ends  that  her 
deck  was  like  a  wall  confronting  the  shore. 
Against  this  background  the  crew  were  visible, 
clinging  desperately  to  hand-holds,  or  lashed  to 
the  rigging. 

And  a  great  cry  went  suddenly  up  from  the 
crowd  ashore.  "There's  women  aboard  her — 
poor  lost  souls!"  quavered  one  old  dame  who 
had  seen  many  a  terrifying  wreck  along  the 
coast. 


66    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE   POINT 

Ruth  Fielding's  sharper  eyes  had  discovered 
that  one  of  the  figures  clinging  to  the  wreck  was 
too  small  for  a  grown  person. 

"It's  a  child!"  she  murmured.  "It's  a  girl. 
Oh,  Helen!  there's  a  girl — no  older  than  we — 
on  that  wreck!  " 

The  words  of  the  men  standing  about  them 
proved  Ruth's  statement  to  be  true.  Others  had 
descried  the  girl's  figure  in  that  perilous  situation. 
There  was  a  woman,  too,  and  seven  men.  Seven 
men  were  ample  to  man  a  schooner  of  her  size, 
and  probably  the  other  two  were  the  captain's 
wife  and  daughter. 

But  if  escape  to  the  shore  depended  upon  the 
work  of  the  lifeboat  and  her  crew,  the  castaways 
were  in  peril  indeed,  for  the  boat  was  coming 
shoreward  now  with  a  rush.  With  her  came  the 
tossing,  charging  timbers  washed  from  the  deck 
load.  The  sea  between  the  reef  and  the  beach 
was  now  a  seething  mass  of  broken  and  splinter- 
ing planks  and  beams.  No  craft  could  live  hi  such 
a  seaway. 

But  Ruth  and  her  friends  were  suddenly  con- 
scious of  a  peril  nearer  at  hand.  The  broken 
lifeboat  with  its  crew  was  being  swept  shoreward 
upon  a  great  wave,  and  with  the  speed  of  an 
express  train.  The  great,  curling,  foam-streaked 
breaker  seemed  to  hurl  the  heavy  boat  through 
the  air. 


THE  GIRIv  IN  THE  RIGGING  6? 

"They'll  be  killed!  Oh,  they  will!  "  shrieked 
Mary  Cox. 

The  long  craft,  half-smothered  in  foam,  and 
accompanied  by  the  plunging  timbers  from  the 
wreck,  darted  shoreward  with  increasing  veloc- 
ity. One  moment  it  was  high  above  their  heads, 
with  the  curling  wave  ready  to  break,  and  the 
sea  sucking  away  beneath  its  keel — bared  for 
half  its  length. 

Crash!  Down  the  boat  was  dashed,  with  a 
blow  that  (so  it  seemed  to  the  unaccustomed  spec- 
tators) must  tear  it  asunder. 

The  crew  were  dashed  from  their  places  by 
the  shock.  The  waiting  longshoremen  ran  to 
seize  the  broken  boat  and  drag  it  above  high- 
water  mark.  One  of  the  crew  was  sucked  back 
with  the  undertow  and  disappeared  for  a  full 
minute.  But  he  came  in,  high  on  the  next  wave, 
and  they  caught  and  saved  him. 

To  the  amazement  of  Ruth  Fielding  and  her 
young  companions,  none  of  the  seven  men  who 
had  manned  the  boat  seemed  much  the  worse  for 
their  experience.  They  breathed  heavily  and 
their  faces  were  grim.  '  She  could  almost  have 
sworn  that  the  youngest  of  the  crew — he  had 
the  figure  "  6  "  worked  on  the  sleev  of  his  coat — 
had  tears  of  disappointment  in  his  eyes. 

"  It's  a  desperate  shame,  lads !  M  croaked  old 
Cap'n  Abinadab.     "  We're  bested.     And  the  old 


68    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

boat's  badly  smashed.  But  there's  one  thing 
sure — no  other  boat,  nor  no  other  crew,  couldn't 
do  what  we  started  to  do.  Ain't  no  kick  comin' 
on  that  score." 

"  And  can't  the  poor  creatures  out  there  be 
helped?  Must  they  drown?"  whispered  Helen 
in  Ruth's  ear. 

Ruth  did  not  believe  that  these  men  would  give 
up  so  easily.  They  were  rough  seamen;  but  the 
helplessness  of  the  castaways  appealed  to 
them. 

"  Come  on,  boys !  "  commanded  the  captain  of 
the  life-saving  crew.  "  Let's  git  out  the  wagon. 
I  don't  suppose  there's  any  use,  unless  there  comes 
a  lull  in  this  etarnal  gale.  But  we'll  try  what 
gunpowder  will  do." 

"  What  are  they  going  to  attempt  now?" 
Madge  Steele  asked. 

"  The  beach  wagon,"  said  somebody. 
"  They've  gone  for  the  gear." 

This  was  no  explanation  to  the  girls  until  Tom 
Cameron  came  running  back  from  the  house  and 
announced  that  the  crew  were  going  to  try  to 
reach  the  schooner  with  a  line. 

"  They'll  try  to  save  them  with  the  breeches 
buoy,"  he  said.  "  They've  got  a  life-car  here; 
but  they  never  use  that  thing  nowadays  if  they 
can  help.  Too  many  castaways  have  been  near 
smothered  in  it,  they  say.     If  they  can  get  a  Mne 


THE  GIRI.  IN  THE  RIGGING  69 

over  the  wreck  they'll  haul  the  crew  in,  one  at 
a  time." 

"And  that  girl!"  cried  Ruth.  "I  hope  they 
will  send  her  ashore  first.  How  frightened  she 
must  be." 

There  was  no  more  rain  falling  now,  although 
the  spray  whipped  from  the  crests  of  the  waves 
was  flung  across  the  beach  and  wet  the  sight- 
seers. But  with  the  lightening  of  the  clouds  a  pale 
glow  seemed  to  spread  itself  upon  the  tumultuous 
sea. 

The  wreck  could  be  seen  almost  as  vividly  as 
when  the  signal  lights  were  burned.  The  torn 
clouds  were  driven  across  the  heavens  as  rap- 
idly as  the  huge  waves  raced  shoreward.  And 
behind  both  cloud  and  wave  was  the  seething 
gale.  There  seemed  no  prospect  of  the  wind's 
falling. 

Ruth  turned  to  see  the  crew  which  had  failed 
to  get  the  lifeboat  to  the  wreck,  trundling  a 
heavy,  odd-looking,  two-wheeled  wagon  down 
upon  the  beach.  They  worked  as  though  their 
fight  with  the  sea  had  been  but  the  first  round  of 
the  battle.  Their  calmness  and  skillful  handling 
of  the  breeches-buoy  gear  inspired  the  onlookers 
with  renewed  hope. 

"  Oh,  Cap'n  Abinadab  and  the  boys  will  get 
'em  this  time,"  declared  Heavy.  "  You  just 
Snatch." 


JO    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

And  Ruth  Fielding  and  the  others  were  not 
likely  to  miss  any  motion  of  the  crew  of  the  life 
saving  station.  The  latter  laid  out  the  gear  with 
quick,  sure  action.  The  cannon  was  placed  in 
position  and  loaded.  The  iron  bar  to  which  the 
line  was  attached  was  slipped  into  the  muzzle 
of  the  gun.  The  men  stood  back  and  the  cap- 
tain pulled  the  lanyard. 

Bang! 

The  sharp  bark  of  the  line-gun  echoed  dis- 
tressingly in  their  ears.  It  jumped  back  a  pace, 
for  the  captain  had  charged  it  to  the  full  limit 
allowed  by  the  regulations.  A  heavier  charge 
might  burst  the  gun. 

The  line-iron  hurtled  out  over  the  sea  in  a 
long,  graceful  curve,  the  line  whizzing  after  it. 
The  line  unwound  so  rapidly  from  the  frame  on 
which  it  was  coiled  that  Ruth's  gaze  could  not 
follow  it. 

The  sea  was  light  enough  for  them  to  follow 
the  course  of  the  iron,  however,  and  a  groan 
broke  from  the  lips  of  the  onlookers  when  they 
saw  that  the  missile  fell  far  short  of  the  wreck. 
To  shoot  the  line  into  the  very  teeth  of  this  gale, 
as  Cap'n  Abinadab  had  said,  was  futile.  Yet 
he  would  not  give  up  the  attempt.  This  was 
the  only  way  that  was  now  left  for  them  to  aid 
the  unfortunate  crew  of  the  lumber  schooner. 
If  they  could  not  get  the  breeches  buoy  to  her 
the  sea  would  be  the  grave  of  the  castaways. 


THE  GIRL  IN  THE  RIGGING  71 

For  already  the  waves,  smashing  down  upon 
the  grounded  wreck,  were  tearing  it  apart.  She 
would  soon  break  in  two,  and  then  the  remaining 
rigging  and  spais  would  go  by  the  board  and 
with  them  the  crew  and  passengers. 

Yet  Captain  Abinadab  Cope  refused  to  give 
over  his  attempts  to  reach  the  wreck. 

"Haul  in!"  he  commanded  gruffly,  when  the 
line  fell  short.  Ruth  marveled  at  the  skill  of 
the  man  who  rewound  the  wet  line  on  the  pegs 
of  the  frame  that  held  it.  In  less  than  five  min- 
utes the  life  savers  were  ready  for  another  shot. 

"  You  take  it  when  the  regular  crew  are  at 
practice,  sometimes,"  whispered  Heavy,  to  Ruth, 
"  and  they  work  like  lightning.  They'll  shoot 
the  line  and  get  a  man  ashore  in  the  breeches 
buoy  in  less  than  two  minutes.  But  this  is  hard 
work  for  these  volunteers — and  it  means  so 
much!" 

Ruth  felt  as  though  a  hand  clutched  at  her 
heart.  The  unshed  tears  stung  her  eyes.  If 
they  should  fail — if  all  this  effort  should  go  for 
naught!  Suppose  that  unknown  girl  out  there 
on  the  wreck  should  be  washed  ashore  in  the 
morning,  pallid  and  dead. 

The  thought  almost  overwhelmed  the  girl 
from  the  Red  Mill.  As  the  gun  barked  a  second 
time  and  the  shot  and  line  hurtled  seaward,  Ruth 
Fielding's  pale  lips  uttered  a  whispered  prayer. 


CHAPTER  X 

THE  DOUBLE  CHARGE 

But  again  the  line  fell  short. 

"  They'll  never  be  able  to  make  it,"  Tom  Cam- 
eron said  to  the  shivering  girls. 

"  Oh,  I  really  wish  we  hadn't  come  down 
here,"  murmured  his  sister. 

"Oh,  pshaw,  Nell!  don't  be  a  baby,"  he 
growled. 

But  he  was  either  winking  back  the  tears  him- 
self, or  the  salt  spray  had  gotten  into  his  eyes. 
How  could  anybody  stand  there  on  the  beach  and 
feel  unmoved  when  nine  human  beings,  in  view 
now  and  then  when  the  billows  fell,  were  within 
an  ace  of  awful  death? 

Again  and  again  the  gun  was  shotted  and  the 
captain  pulled  the  lanyard.  He  tried  to  catch 
the  moment  when  there  was  a  lull  in  the  gale; 
but  each  time  the  shot  fell  short.  It  seemed 
to  be  merely  a  waste  of  human  effort  and  gun- 
powder. 

"  I've  'phoned  to  the  Minot  Cove  station,"  the 
captain  said,  during  one  of  the  intervals  while 

72 


THE  DOUBLE  CHARGE  73 

tfiey  were  hauling  in  the  line.  "  They've  got  a 
power  boat  there,  and  if  they  can  put  to  sea 
with  her  they  might  get  around  to  the  other  side 
of  the  reef  and  take  'em  off." 

"  She'll  go  to  pieces  before  a  boat  can  come 
from  Minot  Cove,"  declared  one  grizzled  fisher- 
man. 

"I  fear  so,  Henry,"  replied  the  captain. 
"  But  we  got  to  do  what  we  can.  They  ain't 
give  me  no  leeway  with  this  gun.  Orders  is 
never  to  give  her  a  bigger  charge  than  what  she's 
gettin'  now.     But,  I  swan— — " 

He  did  not  finish  his  sentence,  but  gravely 
measured  out  the  next  charge  of  powder.  When 
he  had  loaded  the  gun  he  waved  everybody  back. 

"Git  clean  away,  you  lads.  All  of  ye,  now! 
She'll  probably  blow  up,  but  there  ain't  no  use 
in  more'n  one  of  us  blowin'  up  with  her." 

"What  you  done,  Cap'n?"  demanded  one  of 
his  crew. 

"Never  you  mind,  lad.  Step  back,  I  tell  ye. 
She's  slewed  right  now,  I  reckon." 

"What  have  you  got  in  her?"  demanded  the 
man  again. 

"  I'm  goin'  to  reach  them  folk  if  I  can,"  re- 
turned Cap'n  Abinadab.  "  I've  double  charged 
her.  If  she  don't  carry  the  line  this  time,  she 
never  will.  And  she  may  carry  it  over  the  wreck, 
even  if  she  blows  up.     Look  outl" 


74    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  UGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"Don't  ye  da  it!"  cried  the  man,  Mason, 
starting  forward.  "  If  you  pull  that  lanyard 
ye'll  be  blowed  sky-high. " 

"Well,  who  should  pull  it  if  I  don't?"  de- 
manded the  old  captain  of  the  station,  grimly. 
"  Guess  old  'Binadab  Cope  ain't  goin'  to  step 
back  for  you  young  fellers  yet  a  while.  Come! 
git,  I  tell  ye !     Far  back — afar  back." 

"Oh!  he'll  be  killed!"  murmured  Ruth. 

"You  come  back  here,  Ruth  Fielding!"  com- 
manded Tom,  clutching  her  arm.  "  If  that  gun 
blows  up  we  want  to  be  a  good  bit  away." 

The  whole  party  ran  back.  They  saw  the 
last  of  the  crew  leave  the  old  captain.  He  stood 
firmly,  at  one  side  of  the  gun,  his  legs  placed 
wide  apart;  they  saw  him  pull  the  lanyard.  Fire 
spat  from  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  and  with  a 
shriek  the  shot-line  was  carried  seaward,  toward 
the  wreck. 

The  old  gun,  double  charged,  turned  a  somer- 
sault and  buried  its  muzzle  in  the  sand.  The 
captain  dodged,  and  went  down  —  perhaps 
thrown  by  the  force  of  the  explosion.  But  the 
gun  did  not  burst. 

However,  he  was  upon  his  feet  again  in  a 
moment,  and  all  the  crowd  were  shouting  their 
congratulations.  The  flying  line  had  carried 
squarely  over  the  middle  of  the  wreck. 


THE  DOUBLE   CHARGE  75 

"Now,  will  they  know  what  to  do  with  it?" 
gasped  Ruth. 

"  Wait !  see  that  man — that  man  in  the  middle? 
The  line  passed  over  his  shoulder!  "  cried  Heavy. 
"See!  he's  got  it." 

"And  he's  hauling  on  it,"  cried  Tom. 

"  There  goes  the  line  with  the  board  attached," 
said  Madge  Steele,  exultantly.  The  girls  had  al* 
ready  examined  this  painted  board.  On  it  were 
plain,  though  brief,  instructions  in  English, 
French,  and  Italian,  to  the  wrecked  crew  as  to 
what  they  should  do  to  aid  in  their  own  rescue. 
But  this  schooner  was  probably  from  up  Maine 
way,  or  the  "  blue-nose  country"  of  Nova  Scotia, 
and  her  crew  would  be  familiar  with  the  rigging 
of  the  breeches  buoy. 

They  saw,  as  another  light  was  burned  on  the 
wreck,  the  man  who  had  seized  the  line  creep 
along  to  the  single  mast  then  standing.  It  was 
broken  short  off  fifteen  feet  above  the  deck.  He 
hauled  out  the  shotline,  and  then  a  mate  came  to 
his  assistance  and  they  rigged  the  larger  line  that 
followed  and  attached  the  block  to  the  stump  of 
the  mast. 

Then  on  shore  the  crew  of  the  life  saving  sta- 
tion and  the  fishermen — even  the  boys  from  the 
bungalow — hauled  on  the  cable,  and  soon  sent  the 
gear  across  the  tossing  waves.    They  had  erected 


J6    RUTH   FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

a  stout  pair  of  wooden  "  shears  "  in  the  sand  and 
over  this  the  breeches  buoy  gear  ran. 

It  went  out  empty,  but  the  moment  it  reached 
the  staggering  wreck  the  men  there  popped  the 
woman  into  the  sack  and  those  ashore  hauled  in. 
Over  and  through  the  waves  she  came,  and  when 
they  caught  her  at  the  edge  of  the  surf  and 
dragged  the  heavy  buoy  on  to  the  dry  land,  she 
was  all  but  breathless,  and  was  crying. 

"  Don't  ye  fear,  Missus,"  said  one  rough  but 
kindly  boatman.  "  We'll  have  yer  little  gal  ashore 
in  a  jiffy.'' 

"  She — she  isn't  my  child,  poor  thing,"  panted 
the  woman.  "  I'm  Captain  Kirby's  wife.  Poor 
Jim!  he  won't  leave  till  the  last  one " 

"  Of  course  he  won't,  ma'am — and  you  wouldn't 
want  him  to,"  broke  in  Cap'n  Cope.  "  A  skip- 
per's got  to  stand  by  his  ship  till  his  crew  an' 
passengers  are  safe.  Now,  you  go  right  up  to 
the  station " 

"  Oh,  no,  no !  "  she  cried.  "  I  must  see  them 
all  safe  ashore." 

The  huge  buoy  was  already  being  hauled  back 
to  the  wreck.  There  was  no  time  to  be  lost,  for 
the  waves  had  torn  away  the  after-deck  and  it 
was  feared  the  forward  deck  and  the  mast  would 
soon  go. 

Ruth  went  to  the  woman  and  spoke  to  her 
softly. 


THE  DOUBLE   CHARGE  f7 

"Who  is  the  little  girl,  please?  "  she  asked. 

11  She  ain't  little,  Miss — no  littler  than  you," 
returned  Mrs.  Kirby.     uHer  name  is  Nita." 

"Nita?" 

"  That's  what  she  calls  herself." 

"  Nita  what?"  asked  Ruth. 

"  I  don't  know,  I'm  sure.  I  believe  she's  run 
away  from  her  folks.  She  won't  tell  much  about 
herself.  She  only  came  aboard  at  Portland.  In 
fact,  I  found  her  there  on  the  dock,  and  she 
seemed  hungry  and  neglected,  and  she  told  us  first 
that  she  wanted  to  go  to  her  folks  in  New  York 
- — and  that's  where  the  Whipstitch  was  bound." 

"  The  Whipstitch  is  the  name  of  the  schoon- 
er?" 

11  Yes,  Miss.  And  now  Jim's  lost  her.  But — 
thanks  be! — she  was  insured,"  said  the  captain's 
wife. 

At  that  moment  another  hearty  shout  went  up 
from  the  crowd  on  shore.  The  breeches  buoy  was 
at  the  wreck  again.  They  saw  the  men  there  lift 
the  girl  into  the  buoy,  which  was  rigged  like  a 
great  pair  of  overalls.  The  passenger  sat  in  this 
sack,  with  her  legs  thrust  through  the  apertures 
below,  and  clung  to  the  ring  of  the  buoy,  which 
was  level  with  her  shoulders. 

She  started  from  the  ship  in  this  rude  convey- 
ance, and  the  girls  gathered  eagerly  to  greet  her 
when  she  landed.    But  several  waves  washed  com- 


78    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

pletely  over  the  breeches  buoy  and  the  girl  was 
each  time  buried  from  sight.  £he  was  unconscious 
when  they  lifted  her  out. 

She  was  a  black-haired  girl  of  fourteen  or  there- 
about, well  built  and  strong.  The  captain's  wife 
was  too  anxious  about  the  crew  to  pay  much  at- 
tention to  the  waif,  and  Ruth  and  her  friends  bore 
Nita,  the  castaway,  off  to  the  station,  where  it  was 
warm. 

The  boys  remained  to  see  the  last  of  the  crew — 
Captain  Kirby  himself — brought  ashore.  And 
none  too  soon  was  this  accomplished,  for  within 
the  half  hour  the  schooner  had  broken  in  two. 
Its  wreckage  and  the  lumber  with  which  it  had 
been  loaded  so  covered  the  sea  between  the  reef 
and  the  shore  that  the  waves  were  beaten  down, 
and  had  it  been  completely  calm  an  active  man 
could  have  traveled  dry-shod  over  the  flotsam  to 
the  reef. 

Meanwhile  Nita  had  been  brought  to  her 
senses.  But  there  was  nothing  at  the  station  for 
the  girl  from  the  wreck  to  put  on  while  her  own 
clothing  was  dried,  and  it  was  Heavy  who  came 
forward  with  a  very  sensible  suggestion. 

"  Let's  take  her  home  with  us.  Plenty  of  things 
there.  Wrap  her  up  good  and  warm  and  we'll 
take  her  on  the  buckboard.  We  can  all  crowd 
on — all  but  the  boys." 

The  boys  had  not  seen  enough  yet,  anyway, 


THE  DOUBLE  CHARGE  79 

and  were  not  ready  to  go ;  but  the  girls  were  eager 
to  return  to  the  bungalow — especially  when  they 
could  take  the  castaway  with  them. 

"And  there  we'll  get  her  to  tell  us  all  about 
it,"  whispered  Helen  to  Ruth.  "My I  she  must 
have  an  interesting  story  to  tell." 


CHATTEL   XT 

THE  STORY  OF   THE   CASTAWAY 

There  was  only  the  cook  in  the  station  and 
nobody  to  stop  the  girls  from  taking  Nita  away. 
She  had  recovered  her  senses,  but  scarcely  appre- 
ciated as  yet  where  she  was;  nor  did  she  seem  to 
care  what  became  of  her. 

Heavy  called  the  man  who  had  driven  them 
over,  and  in  ten  minutes  after  she  was  ashore  the 
castaway  was  on  the  buckboard  with  her  new 
friends  and  the  ponies  were  bearing  them  all  at  a 
spanking  pace  toward  the  Stone  bungalow  on 
Lighthouse  Point. 

The  fact  that  this  strange  girl  had  been  no  rela- 
tion of  the  wife  of  the  schooner's  captain,  and  that 
Mrs.  Kirby  seemed,  indeed,  to  know  very  little 
about  her,  mystified  the  stout  girl  and  her  friends 
exceedingly.  They  whispered  a  good  deal  among 
themselves  about  the  castaway;  but  she  sat  be- 
tween Ruth  and  Helen  and  they  said  little  to  her 
during  the  ride. 

She  had  been  wrapped  in  a  thick  blanket  at  the 
station  and  was  not  likely  to  take  cold ;  but  Mi** 

80 


THE   STORY  OF  Till  CASTAWAY  gl 

Kate  and  old  Mammy  Laura  bustled  about  a  good 
deal  when  Nita  was  brought  into  the  bungalow; 
and  very  shortly  she  was  tucked  into  one  of  the 
beds  on  the  second  floor — in  the  very  room  in 
which  Ruth  and  Helen  and  Mercy  were  to  sleep — 
and  Miss  Kate  had  insisted  upon  her  swallowing 
a  bowl  of  hot  tea. 

Nita  seemed  to  be  a  very  self-controlled  girl. 
She  didn't  weep,  now  that  the  excitement  was 
past,  as  most  girls  would  have  done.  But  at 
first  she  was  very  silent,  and  watched  her  enter- 
tainers with  snapping  black  eyes  and — Ruth 
thought — in  rather  a  sly,  sharp  way.  She  seemed 
to  be  studying  each  and  every  one  of  the  girls — 
and  Miss  Kate  and  Mammy  Laura  as  well. 

The  boys  came  home  after  a  time  and  an- 
nounced that  every  soul  aboard  the  Whipstitch 
was  safe  and  sound  in  the  life  saving  station. 
And  the  captain's  wife  had  sent  over  word  that 
she  and  her  husband  would  go  back  to  Portland 
the  next  afternoon.  If  the  girl  they  had  picked 
up  there  on  the  dock  wished  to  return,  she  must 
be  ready  to  go  with  them. 

11  What,  go  back  to  that  town?  "  cried  the  cast- 
away when  Ruth  told  her  this,  sitting  right  up 
in  bed.     "  Why,  that's  the  last  place!  " 

"Then  you  don't  belong  in  Portland?"  asked 
Ruth. 

"I  should  hope  not!" 


82    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"Nor  in  Maine?  "  asked  Madge,  for  the  other 
girls  were  grouped  about  the  room.  They  were 
all  anxious  to  hear  the  castaway's  story. 

The  girl  was  silent  for  a  moment,  her  lips  very 
tightly  pressed  together.  Finally  she  said,  with 
'her  sly  look: 

"  I  guess  I  ain't  obliged  to  tell  you  that;  am  I?  " 

"  Witness  does  not  wish  to  incriminate  herself," 
snapped  Mercy,  her  eyes  dancing. 

"  Well,  I  don't  know  that  I'm  bound  to  tell  you 
girls  everything  I  know,"  said  the  strange  girl, 
coolly. 

"  Right-oh!  "  cried  Heavy,  cordially.  "  You're 
visiting  me.  I  don't  know  as  it  is  anybody's  busi- 
ness how  you  came  to  go  aboard  the  Whip' 
stitch " 

"  Oh,  I  don't  mind  telling  you  that,"  said  the 
girl,  eagerly.     "  I  was  hungry." 

"  Hungry!  "  chorused  her  listeners,  and  Heavy 
said:  "  Fancy  being  hungry,  and  having  to  go 
aboard  a  ship  to  get  a  meal!  " 

"  That  was  it  exactly,"  said  Nita,  bluntly. 
"  But  Mrs.  Kirby  was  real  good  to  me.  And  the 
schooner  was  going  to  New  York  and  that's 
where  I  wanted  to  go." 

"  Because  your  folks  live  there?  "  shot  in  The 
Fox. 

"No,  they  don't,  Miss  Smartie!"  snapped 
back  the  castaway.    "  You  don't  catch  me  so  easy. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CASTAWAY  83 

I  wasn't  born  yesterday,  Miss!  My  folks  don't 
live  in  New  York.     Maybe  I  haven't  any  folks. 

I  came  from  clear  way  out  West,  anyway — so 
now!  I  thought  'way  down  East  must  be  the 
finest  place  in  the  world.     But  it  isn't." 

"Did  you  run  away  to  come  East?"  asked 
Ruth,  quietly. 

11  Well — I  came  here,  anyway.  And  I  don't 
much  like  it,  I  can  tell  you." 

"  Ah-ha !  "  cried  Mercy  Curtis,  chuckling  to 
herself.  "  I  know.  She  thought  Yankee  Land 
was  just  flowing  in  milk  and  honey.  Listen! 
here's  what  she  said  to  herself  before  she  ran 
away   from   home: 

"  I  wish  I'd  lived  away  Down  East, 
Where  codfish  salt  the  sea, 
And  where  the  folks  have  apple  sass 
And  punkin  pie  fer  tea!  " 

That's  the  *  Western  Girl's  Lament,'  "  pursued 
Mercy.  "  So  you  found  'way  down  East  nothing 
like  what  you  thought  it  was?" 

The  castaway  scowled  at  the  sharp-tongued 
lame   girl    for   a   moment.      Then    she    nodded. 

II  It's  the  folks,"  she  said.  "  You're  all  so  afraid 
of  a  stranger.     Do  I  look  like  I'd  bite?" 

"  Maybe  not  ordinarily,"  said  Helen,  laughing 
softly.  "  Bat  you  do  not  look  very  pleasant  just 
now." 


84    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  Well,  people  haven't  been  nice  to  me,"  grum- 
bled the  Western  girl.  "  I  thought  there  were 
lots  of  rich  men  in  the  East,  and  that  a  girl  could 
make  friends  'most  anywhere,  and  get  into  nice 
families — — " 

"To  workf"  asked  Ruth,  curiously. 

"  No,  no !  You  know,  you  read  a  lot  about 
rich  folks  taking  up  girls  and  doing  everything 
for  them — dressing  them  fine,  and  sending  them 
to  fancy  schools,  and  all  that." 

"  I  never  read  of  any  such  thing  in  my  life!  " 
declared  Mary  Cox.  "  I  guess  you've  been  read- 
ing funny  books." 

"  Huh !  "  sniffed  the  castaway,  who  was  evi- 
dently a  runaway  and  was  not  made  sorry  for  her 
escapade  even  by  being  wrecked  at  sea.  "  Huh! 
I  like  a  story  with  some  life  in  it,  I  do !  Jib 
Pottoway  had  some  dandy  paper-covered  novels 
in  his  locker  and  he  let  me  read  'em " 

"  Who  under  the  sun  is  Jib  Pottoway?  "  gasped 
Helen.    "  That  isn't  a  real  name;  is  it?  " 

"It's  ugly  enough  to  be  real;  isn't  it?"  re- 
torted the  strange  girl,  chuckling.  "  Yep.  That's 
Jib's  real  name.  '  Jibbeway  Pottoway  ' — that's 
the  whole  of  it." 

" Oh,  oh!  "  cried  Heavy,  with  her  hand  to  her 
face.  "  It  makes  my  jaw  ache  to  even  try  to 
say  it." 

"What  is  he?"  asked  Madge,  curiously. 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CASTAWAY  85 

"  Injun,"  returned  the  Western  girl,  laconic- 
ally. "  Or,  part  Injun.  He  comes  from  'way  up 
Canada  way.     His  folks  had  Jibbeway  blood." 

"  But  who  is  he?"  queried  Ruth,  curiously. 

"  Why,   he's   a   puncher   that  works    for 

Well,  he's  a  cow  puncher.  That's  'nuff.  It  don't 
matter  where  he  works,"  added  the  girl,  gruffly. 

"  That  might  give  away  where  you  come  from, 
eh?"  put  in  Mercy. 

"  It  might,"  and  Nita  laughed. 

"  But  what  is  your  name?  "  asked  Ruth. 

"  Nita,  I  tell  you." 

"Nita  what?" 

"  Never  mind.  Just  Nita.  Mebbe  I  never  had 
another  name.  Isn't  one  name  at  a  time  sufficient, 
Miss?" 

"  I  don't  believe  that  is  your  really-truly 
name,"  said  Ruth,  gravely. 

"I  bet  you're  right,  Ruth  Fielding!"  cried 
Heavy,  chuckling.  "  *  Nita  '  and  '  Jib  Pottoway  ' 
don't  seem  to  go  together.  *  Nita  '  is  altogether 
too  fancy." 

"  It's  a  nice  name!  "  exclaimed  the  strange  girl, 
in  some  anger.  "  It  was  the  name  of  the  girl  in 
the  paper-covered  novel — and  it's  good  enough 
for  me." 

"  But  what's  your  real  name?  "  urged  Ruth. 

"I'm  not  telling  you  that,"  replied  the  run- 
away, shortly. 


86    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  Then  you  prefer  to  go  under  a  false  name — 
even  among  your  friends  ?"  asked  the  girl  from 
the  Red  Mill. 

"How  do  I  know  you're  my  friends ?"  de- 
manded Nita,  promptly. 

"  We  can't  very  well  be  your  enemies, "  said 
Helen,  in  some  disgust. 

"  I  don't  know.  Anybody's  my  enemy  who 
wants  to  send  me  back — well,  anyone  who  wants 
to  return  me  to  the  place  I  came  from." 

"Was  k  an  institution?"  asked  Mary  Cox^ 
quickly. 

"What's  that?"  demanded  Nita,  puzzled. 
"  What  do  you  mean  by  an  '  institution  '  ?  " 

"  She  means  a  sort  of  school,"  explained 
Ruth. 

"  Yes  !  "  exclaimed  The  Fox,  sharply.  "  A  re- 
form school,  or  something  of  the  kind.  Maybe 
an  almshouse." 

"  Never  heard  of  'em,"  returned  Nita,  unruf- 
fled by  the  insinuation.  "  Guess  they  don't  have 
'em  where  I  come  from.  Did  you  go  to  one, 
Miss?" 

Heavy  giggled,  and  Madge  Steele  rapped  The 
Fox  smartly  on  the  shoulder.  "There!"  said 
the  senior.  "  It  serves  you  right,  Mary  Cox. 
You're  answered." 

"  Now,  I  tell  you  what  it  is !  "  cried  the  strange 
girl,  sitting  up  in  bed  again  and  looking  rather 


THE   STORY  OF  THE  CASTAWAY  87 

flushed,  "  if  you  girls  are  going  to  nag  me,  and 
bother  me  about  who  I  am,  and  where  I  come 
from,  and  what  my  name  is — though  Nita's  a 
good  enough  name  for  anybody " 

"  Anybody  but  Jib  Pottoway,"  chuckled  Heavy. 

11  Well !  and  he  warn't  so  bad,  if  he  was  half 
Injun,"  snapped  the  runaway.  "  Well,  anyway, 
if  you  don't  leave  me  alone  I'll  get  out  of  bed 
right  now  and  walk  out  of  here.  I  guess  you 
haven't  any  hold  on  me." 

"  Better  wait  till  your  clothes  are  dry,"  sug- 
gested Madge. 

"Aunt  Kate  would  never  let  you  go,"  said 
Heavy. 

11  I'll  go  to-morrow  morning,  then!  "  cried  the 
runaway. 

"  Why,  we  don't  mean  to  nag  you,"  interposed 
Ruth,  soothingly.  "  But  of  course  we're  curious 
— and  interested." 

"You're  like  all  the  other  Eastern  folk  I've 
met,"  declared  Nita.  "  And  I  don't  like  you 
much.     I  thought  you  were  different." 

"  You've  been  expecting  some  rich  man  to 
adopt  you,  and  dress  you  in  lovely  clothes,  and 
all  that,  eh?  "  said  Mercy  Curtis. 

"  Well !  I  guess  there  are  not  so  many  million- 
aires in  the  East  as  they  said  there  was,"  grum- 
bled Nita. 

"  Or  else  they've  already  got  girls  of  their  own 


88    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

to  look  after,"  laughed  Ruth.  "Why,  Helen 
here,  has  a  father  who  is  very  rich.  But  you 
couldn't  expect  him  to  give  up  Helen  and  Tom 
and  take  you  into  his  home  instead,  could  you?  " 

Nita  glanced  at  the  dry  goods  merchant's 
daughter  with  more  interest  for  a  moment. 

"  And  Heavy's  father  is  awfully  rich,  too," 
said  Ruth.  "  But  he's  got  Heavy  to  support " 

"And  that's  some  job,"  broke  in  Madge, 
laughing.  "  Two  such  daughters  as  Heavy  would 
make  poor  dear  Papa  Stone  a  pauper! " 

"  Well,"  said  Nita,  again,  "  I've  talked  enough. 
I  Won't  tell  you  where  I  come  from.  And  Nita  is. 
my  name — now !  " 

"  It  is  getting  late,"  said  Ruth,  mildly.  "  Don't 
you  all  think  it  would  be  a  good  plan  to  go  to  bed? 
The  wind's  gone  down  some.  I  guess  we  can 
sleep." 

"  Good  advice,"  agreed  Madge  Steele.  "  The 
boys  have  been  abed  some  time.  To-morrow  is 
another  day." 

Heavy  and  she  and  Mary  went  off  to  their 
room.  The  others  made  ready  for  bed,  and  the 
runaway  did  not  say  another  word  to  them,  but 
turned  her  face  to  the  wall  and  appeared,  at  least, 
to  be  soon  asleep. 

Ruth  crept  in  beside  her  so  as  not  to  disturb 
their  strange  guest.  She  was  a  new  type  of  girl 
to  Ruth — and  to  the  others.     Her  independence 


THE  STORY  OF  THE  CASTAWAY  89 

of  speech,  her  rough  and  ready  ways,  and  her 
evident  lack  of  the  influence  of  companionship 
with  refined  girls  were  marked  in  this  Nita's  char- 
acter. 

Ruth  wondered  much  what  manner  of  home 
she  could  have  come  from,  why  she  had  run  away 
from  it,  and  what  Nita  really  proposed  doing  so 
far  from  home  and  friends.  These  queries  kept 
the  girl  from  the  Red  Mill  awake  for  a  long 
time — added  to  which  was  the  excitement  of  the 
evening,  which  was  not  calculated  to  induce  sleep. 

She  would  have  dropped  off  some  time  after  the 
Other  girls,  however,  had  she  not  suddenly  heard 
a  door  latch  somewhere  on  this  upper  floor,  and 
then  the  creep,  creep,  creeping  of  a  rustling  step 
in  the  hall.  It  continued  so  long  that  Ruth  won- 
dered if  one  of  the  girls  in  the  other  room  was 
ill,  and  she  softly  arose  and  went  to  the  door, 
which  was  ajar.  And  what  she  saw  there  in  the 
hall  startled  her. 


CHAPTER   XII 

BUSY  IZZY  IN  A  NEW  ASPECT 

The  stair-well  was  a  wide  and  long  opening 
and  around  it  ran  a  broad  balustrade.  There 
was  no  stairway  to  the  third  floor  of  this  big 
bungalow,  only  the  servants'  staircase  in  the  rear 
reaching  those  rooms  directly  under  the  roof.  So 
the  hall  on  this  second  floor,  out  of  which  the 
family  bedrooms  opened,  was  an  L-shaped  room, 
with  the  balustrade  on  one  hand. 

And  upon  that  balustrade  Ruth  Fielding  beheld 
a  tottering  figure  in  white,  plainly  visible  in  the 
soft  glow  of  the  single  light  burning  below,  yet 
rather  ghostly  after  all. 

She  might  have  been  startled  in  good  earnest 
had  she  not  first  of  all  recognized  Isadore  Phelps' 
face.  He  was  balancing  himself  upon  the  balus- 
trade and,  as  she  came  to  the  door,  he  walked 
gingerly  along  the  narrow  strip  of  moulding  to- 
ward Ruth. 

"Izzy!  whatever  are  you  doing?"  she  hissed. 

The  boy  never  said  a  word  to  her,  but  kept 
right  on,  balancing  himself  with  difficulty.     He 

90 


BUSY  IZZY  IN  A   NEW  ASPECT  91 

was  in  his  pajamas,  his  feet  bare,  and — she  saw 
it  at  last — his  eyes  tight  shut. 

"Oh!  he's  asleep,"  murmured  Ruth. 

And  that  surely  was  Busy  Izzy's  state  at  that 
moment.  Sound  asleep  and  "  tight-rope  walk- 
ing "  on  the  balustrade. 

Ruth  knew  that  it  would  be  dangerous  to 
awaken  him  suddenly — especially  as  it  might 
cause  him  to  fall  down  the  stair-well.  She  crept 
back  into  her  room  and  called  Helen.  The  two 
girls  in  their  wrappers  and  slippers  went  into  the 
hall  again.  There  was  Busy  Izzy  tottering  along 
in  the  other  direction,  having  turned  at  the  wall. 
Once  they  thought  he  would  plunge  down  the 
stairway,  and  Helen  grabbed  at  Ruth  with  a 
smieal  of  terror. 

"  Sh!  "  whispered  her  chum.  "  Go  tell  Tom. 
Wake  him  up.  The  boys  ought  to  tie  Izzy  in 
bed  if  he  is  in  the  habit  of  doing  this." 

"  My!  isn't  he  a  sight!  "  giggled  Helen,  as  she 
ran  past  the  gyrating  youngster,  who  had  again 
turned  for  a  third  perambulation  of  the  railing. 

She  whispered  Tom's  name  at  his  open  door 
and  in  a  minute  the  girls  heard  him  bound  out  of 
bed.  He  was  with  them — sleepy-eyed  and  hastily 
wrapping  his  robe  about  him — in  a  moment. 

"For  the  land's  sake!"  he  gasped,  when  he 
saw  his  friend  on  the  balustrade.  "What  are 
you " 


92    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  Sh !  "  commanded  Ruth.    "  He's  asleep." 

Tom  took  in  the  situation  at  a  glance.  Madge 
Steele  peered  out  of  her  door  at  that  moment. 
"  Who  is  it — Bobbins?  "  she  asked. 

"  No.  It's  Izzy.  He's  walking  in  his  sleep," 
said  Ruth. 

"  He's  a  regular  somnambulist,"  exclaimed 
Helen. 

"  Never  mind.  Don't  call  him  names.  He 
can't  help  it,"  said  Madge. 

Helen  giggled  again.  Tom  had  darted  back 
to  rouse  his  chum.  Bob  Steele  appeared,  more 
tousled  and  more  sleepy-looking  than  Tom. 

"  What's  the  matter  with  that  fellow  now?" 
he  grumbled.  "He's  like  a  flea — you  never 
know  where  he's  going  to  be  next!  Ha!  he'll 
fall  off  that  and  break  his  silly  neck." 

And  as  Busy  Izzy  was  just  then  nearest  his  end 
of  the  hall  in  his  strange  gyrations,  Bob  Steele 
stepped  forward  and  grabbed  him,  lifting  him 
bodily  off  the  balustrade.  Busy  Izzy  screeched, 
but  Tom  clapped  a  hand  over  his  mouth. 

"  Shut  up !  want  to  raise  the  whole  neighbor- 
hood? "  grunted  Bobbins,  dragging  the  lightly  at- 
tired, struggling  boy  back  into  their  room.  "  Ha ! 
I'll  fix  you  after  this.  I'll  lash  you  to  the  bed- 
post every  night  we're  here — now  mark  that, 
young  man!  " 

It  seemed  that  the  youngster  often  walked  in 


BUSY  IZZY  IN  A  NEW  ASPECT  93 

his  sleep,  but  the  girls  had  not  known  it.  Usually, 
at  school,  his  roommates  kept  the  dormitory  door 
locked  and  the  key  hidden,  so  that  he  couldn't  get 
out  to  do  himself  any  damage  running  around 
with  his  eyes  shut. 

The  party  all  got  to  sleep  again  after  that  and ' 
there  was  no  further  disturbance  before  morn- 
ing. They  made  a  good  deal  of  fun  of  Isadore 
at  the  breakfast  table,  but  he  took  the  joking 
philosophically.  He  was  always  playing  pranks 
himself;  but  he  had  learned  to  take  a  joke,  too. 

He  declared  that  all  he  dreamed  during  the 
night  was  that  he  was  wrecked  in  an  iceboat  on 
Second  Reef  and  that  the  only  way  for  him  to 
get  ashore  was  to  walk  on  a  cable  stretched  from 
the  wreck  to  the  beach.  He  had  probably  been 
walking  that  cable — in  his  mind — when  Ruth  had 
caught  him  balancing  on  the  balustrade. 

The  strange  girl  who  persisted  in  calling  her- 
self "  Nita  "  came  down  to  the  table  in  some  of 
Heavy's  garments,  which  were  a  world  too  large 
for  her.  Her  own  had  been  so  shrunk  and  stained 
by  the  sea-water  that  they  would  never  be  fit  to 
put  on  again.  Aunt  Kate  was  very  kind  to  her, 
but  she  looked  at  the  runaway  oddly,  too.  Nita 
had  been  just  as  uncommunicative  to  her  as  she 
had  been  to  the  girls  in  the  bedroom  the  night 
before. 

"  If  you  don't  like  me,  or  don't  like  my  name, 


94    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

I  can  go  away,"  she  declared  to  Miss  Kate,  coolly. 
"  I  haven't  got  to  stay  here,  you  know." 

"  But  where  will  you  go?  what  will  you  do?" 
demanded  that  young  lady,  severely.  "  You  say 
the  captain  of  the  schooner  and  his  wife  are  noth- 
ing to  you?" 

"  I  should  say  not !  "  exclaimed  Nita.  "  They 
were  nice  and  kind  to  me,  though." 

"  And  you  can't  go  away  until  you  have  some- 
thing   decent   to    wear,"    added    Heavy's   aunt. 

II  That's  the  first  thing  to  'tend  to." 

And  although  it  was  a  bright  and  beautiful 
morning  after  the  gale,  and  there  were  a  dozen 
things  the  girls  were  all  eager  to  see,  they  spent 
the  forenoon  in  trying  to  make  up  an  outfit  for 
Nita  so  that  she  would  be  presentable.  The  boys 
went  off  with  Mr.  Stone's  boatkeeper  in  the  motor 
launch  and  Mary  Cox  was  quite  cross  because  the 
other  girls  would  not  leave  Miss  Kate  to  fix  up 
Nita  the  best  she  could,  so  that  they  could  all 
accompany  the  boys.  But  in  the  afternoon  the 
buckboard  was  brought  around  and  they  drove  to 
the  lighthouse. 

Nita,  even  in  her  nondescript  garments,  was 
really  a  pretty  girl.  No  awkwardness  of  apparel 
could  hide  the  fact  that  she  had  nice  features  and 
that  her  body  was  strong  and  lithe.  She  moved 
about  with  a  freedom  that  the  other  girls  did  not 
possess.     Even  Ruth  was  not  so  athletic  as  the 


BUSY  IZZY  IN  A  NEW  ASPECT  95 

strange  girl.  And  yet  she  seemed  to  know  noth- 
ing at  all  about  the  games  and  the  exercises  which 
were  commonplace  to  the  girls  from  Briarwood 
Hall. 

There  was  a  patch  of  wind-blown,  stunted  trees 
and  bushes  covering  several  acres  of  the  narrow- 
ing point,  before  the  driving  road  along  the  ridge 
brought  the  visitors  to  Sokennet  Light.  While 
they  were  driving  through  this  a  man  suddenly 
bobbed  up  beside  the  way  and  the  driver  hailed 
him. 

"  Hullo,  you  Crab !  "  he  said.  "  Found  any- 
thing 'long  shore  from  that  wreck?  " 

The  man  stood  up  straight  and  the  girls 
thought  him  a  very  horrid-looking  object.  He 
had  a  great  beard  and  his  hair  was  dark  and 
long. 

"  He's  a  bad  one  for  looks;  ain't  he,  Miss?" 
asked  the  driver  of  Ruth,  who  sat  beside  him. 

"He  isn't  very  attractive,"  she  returned. 

"Ha!  I  guess  not.  And  Crab's  as  bad  as  he 
looks,  which  is  saying  a  good  deal.  He  comes  of 
the  '  wreckers.'  Before  there  was  a  light  here, 
or  life  saving  stations  along  this  coast,  there  was 
folks  lived  along  here  that  made  their  livin'  out 
of  poor  sailors  wrecked  out  there  on  the  reefs. 
Some  said  they  used  to  toll  vessels  onto  the  rocks 
with  false  lights.  Anyhow,  Crab's  father,  and  his 
gran'ther,  was  wreckers.     He's  assistant  light- 


g6    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

keeper;  but  he  oughtn't  to  be.  I  don't  see  how 
Mother  Purling  can  get  along  with  him." 

"She  isn't  afraid  of  him;  is  she?"  queried 
Ruth. 

"  She  isn't  afraid  of  anything,"  asid  Heavy, 
quickly,  from  the  rear  seat.  "  You  wait  till  you 
see  her." 

The  buckboard  went  heavily  on  toward  the 
lighthouse;  but  the  girls  saw  that  the  man  stood 
for  a  long  time — as  long  as  they  were  in  sight, 
at  least — staring  after  them. 

"What  do  you  suppose  he  looked  at  Nita  so 
hard  for?"  whispered  Helen  in  Ruth's  ear.  "I 
thought  he  was  going  to  speak  to  her." 

But  Ruth  had  not  noticed  this,  nor  did  the  run- 
away girl  seem  to  have  given  the  man  any  partic- 
ular attention. 


CHAPTER   XIII 

CRAB  PROVES  TO  BE  OF  THE  HARDSHELL  VARIETY 

They  came  to  the  lighthouse.  There  was  only 
a  tiny,  whitewashed  cottage  at  the  foot  of  the  tall 
shaft.  It  seemed  a  long  way  to  the  brass-trimmed 
and  glistening  lantern  at  the  top.  Ruth  wondered 
how  the  gaunt  old  woman  who  came  to  the  door 
to  welcome  them  could  ever  climb  those  many, 
many  stairs  to  the  narrow  gallery  at  the  top  of 
the  shaft.  She  certainly  could  not  suffer  as  Aunt 
Alvirah  did  with  her  back  and  bones. 

Sokennet  Light  was  just  a  steady,  bright  light, 
sending  its  gleam  far  seaward.  There  was  no 
mechanism  for  turning,  such  as  marks  the  revolv- 
ing lights  in  so  many  lighthouses.  The  simplicity 
of  everything  about  Sokennet  Light  was  what 
probably  led  the  department  officials  to  allow 
Mother  Purling  to  remain  after  her  husband 
died  in  harness. 

"  Jack  Crab  has  done  his  cleaning  and  gone 
about  his  business, M  said  Mother  Purling,  to  the 
girls.  "  Ye  may  all  climb  up  to  the  lantern  if  ye 
wish;  but  touch  nothing." 

Beside  the  shaft  of  the  light  was  a  huge  fog 

97 


98    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

bell.  That  was  rung  by  clockwork.  Mother 
Purling  showed  Ruth  and  her  companions  how  it 
worked  before  the  girls  started  up  the  stairs. 
Mercy  remained  in  the  little  house  with  the  good 
old  woman,  for  she  never  could  have  hobbled  up 
those  spiral  stairs. 

"  It's  too  bad  about  that  girl,"  said  Nita, 
brusquely,  to  Ruth.  "  Has  she  always  been 
lame?" 

Ruth  warmed  toward  the  runaway  immediately 
when  she  found  that  Nita  was  touched  by  Mercy 
Curtis'  affliction.  She  told  Nita  how  the  lame 
girl  had  once  been  much  worse  off  than  she  was 
now,  and  all  about  her  being  operated  on  by  the 
great  physician. 

"  She's  so  much  better  off  now  than  she  was!  " 
cried  Ruth.     "And  so  much  happier!  " 

"  But  she's  a  great  nuisance  to  have  along," 
snapped  Mary  Cox,  immediately  behind  them. 
"  She  had  better  stayed  at  home,  I  should 
think." 

Ruth  flushed  angrily,  but  before  she  could 
speak,  Nita  said,  looking  coolly  at  The  Fox: 

"You're  a  might  snappy,  snarly  sort  of  a  girl; 
ain't  you?  And  you  think  you  are  dreadfully 
smart.  But  somebody  told  you  that.  It  ain't  so. 
I've  seen  a  whole  lot  smarter  than  you.  You 
wouldn't  last  long  among  the  boys  where  /  come 
from." 


CRAB   OF  THE  HARDSHEU,  VARIETY        99 

"  Thank  you ! "  replied  Mary,  her  head  in  the 
air.  "  I  wouldn't  care  to  be  liked  by  the  boys. 
It  isn't  ladylike  to  think  of  the  boys  all  the 
time " 

"  These  are  grown  men,  I  mean,"  said  Nita, 
coolly.  "  The  punchers  that  work  for — well,  just 
cow  punchers.  You  call  them  cowboys.  They 
know  what's  good  and  fine,  jest  as  well  as  Eastern 
folks.  And  a  girl  that  talks  like  you  do  about  a 
cripple  wouldn't  go  far  with  them." 

"  I  suppose  your  friend,  the  half-Indian,  is  a 
critic  of  deportment,"  said  The  Fox,  with  a  laugh. 

"  Well,  Jib  wouldn't  say  anything  mean  about 
a  cripple,"  said  Nita,  in  her  slow  way,  and  The 
Fox  seemed  to  have  no  reply. 

But  this  little  by-play  drew  Ruth  Fielding  closer 
to  the  queer  girl  who  had  selected  her  "  hifalut- 
ing"  name  because  it  was  the  name  of  a  girl  in 
a  paper-covered  novel. 

Nita  had  lived  out  of  doors,  that  was  plain. 
Ruth  believed,  from  what  the  runaway  had  said, 
that  she  came  from  the  plains  of  the  great  West. 
She  had  lived  on  a  ranch.  Perhaps  her  folks 
owned  a  ranch,  and  they  might  even  now  be 
searching  the  land  over  for  their  daughter.  The 
thought  made  the  girl  from  the  Red  Mill  very 
serious,  and  she  determined  to  try  and  gain  Nita's 
confidence  and  influence  her,  if  she  could,  to  tell 
the  truth  about  herself  and  to  go  back  to  her 


loo    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

home.  She  knew  that  she  could  get  Mr.  Cameron 
to  advance  Nita's  fare  to  the  West,  if  the  girl 
would  return. 

But  up  on  the  gallery  in  front  of  the  shining 
lantern  of  the  lighthouse  there  was  no  chance  to 
talk  seriously  to  the  runaway.  Heavy  had  to  sit 
down  when  she  reached  this  place,  and  she  de- 
clared that  she  puffed  like  a  steam  engine.  Then, 
when  she  had  recovered  her  breath,  she  pointed 
out  the  places  of  interest  to  be  seen  from  the 
tower — the  smoke  of  Westhampton  to  the  north; 
Fuller's  Island,  with  its  white  sands  and  gleaming 
green  lawns  and  clumps  of  wind-blown  trees ;  the 
long  strip  of  winding  coast  southward,  like  a  rib- 
bon laid  down  for  the  sea  to  wash,  and  far,  far 
to  the  east,  over  the  tumbling  waves,  still  boister- 
ous with  the  swell  of  last  night's  storm,  the 
white  riding  sail  of  the  lightship  on  No  Man's 
Shoal. 

They  came  down  after  an  hour,  wind-blown, 
the  taste  of  salt  on  their  lips,  and  delighted  with 
the  view.  They  found  the  ugly,  hairy  man  sitting 
on  the  doorstep,  listening  with  a  scowl  and  a  grin 
to  Mercy's  sharp  speeches. 

"  I  don't  know  what  brought  you  back  here  to 
the  light,  Jack  Crab,  at  this  time  of  day,"  said 
Mother  Purling.     "  You  ain't  wanted." 

"  I  likes  to  see  comp'ny,  too,  /  do,"  growled 
the  man. 


CRAB   OF  THE   HARDSHELL  VARIETY       ioi 

11  Well,  these  girls  ain't  your  company,"  re- 
turned the  old  woman.  "Now-!  get  up  and  be 
off.     Get  out  of  the  way." 

Crab  rose,  surlily  enough,  but  his  sharp  eyes 
sought  Nita.  He  looked  her  all  over,  as  though 
she  were  some  strange  object  that  he  had  never 
seen  before. 

11  So  you  air  the  gal  they  brought  ashore  off 
the  lumber  schooner  last  night?"  he  asked 
her. 

"  Yes,  I  am,"  she  returned,  flatly. 

"  You  ain't  got  no  folks  around  here;  hev  ye?  " 
he  continued. 

"  No,  I  haven't." 

11  What's  your  name?  " 

"  Puddin'  Tame!"  retorted  Mercy,  breaking 
in,  in  her  shrill  way.  "  And  she  lives  in  the  lane, 
and  her  number's  cucumber!  There  now!  do 
you  know  all  you  want  to  know,  Hardshell?  " 

Crab  growled  something  under  his  breath  and 
went  off  in  a  hangdog  way. 

"That's  a  bad  man,"  said  Mercy,  with  confi- 
dence. "  And  he's  much  interested  in  you,  Miss 
Nita  Anonymous.     Do  you  know  why?  " 

"  I'm  sure  I  don't,"  replied  Nita,  laughing  quite 
as  sharply  as  before,  but  helping  the  lame  girl  to 
the  buckboard  with  kindliness. 

11  You  look  out  for  him,  then,"  said  Mercy, 
.warningly.      "  He's  a  hardshell  crab,   all  right. 


I02    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

And  either  he  thinks  he  knows  you,  or  he's  got 
something  in  his  mind  that  don't  mean  good  to 
you." 

But  only  Ruth  heard  this.     The  others  were 
bidding  Mother  Purling  good-bye. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE  TRAGIC  INCIDENT  IN  A  FISHING  EXCURSION 

The  boys  had  returned  when  the  party  drove 
back  to  the  bungalow  from  the  lighthouse.  A 
lighthouse  might  be  interesting,  and  it  was  fine 
to  see  twenty-odd  miles  to  the  No  Man's  Shoal, 
and  Mother  Purling  might  be  a  dear — but  the 
girls  hadn't  done  anything,  and  the  boys  had. 
They  had  fished  for  halibut  and  had  caught  a 
sixty-five-pound  one.  Bobbins  had  got  it  on  his 
hook;  but  it  took  all  three  of  them,  with  the  boat- 
keeper's  advice,  to  get  the  big,  flapping  fish  over 
the  side. 

They  had  part  of  that  fish  for  supper.  Heavy 
was  enraptured,  and  the  other  girls  had  a  salt- 
water appetite  that  made  them  enjoy  the  fish,  too. 
It  was  decided  to  try  for  blackfish  off  the  rocks 
beyond  Sokennet  the  next  morning. 

"  We'll  go  over  in  the  Mir  aflame  " — (that  was 
the  name  of  the  motor  boat) — "  and  we'll  take 
somebody  with  us  to  help  Phineas,"  Heavy  de- 
clared.     Phineas    was    the    boatman    who    had 

103 


104    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

Charge  of  Mr.  Stone's  little  fleet.  "  Phin  is  a 
great  cook  and  he'll  get  us  up  a  regular  fish 
dinner " 

"Oh,  dear,  Jennie  Stone!  how  can  you?" 
broke  in  Helen,  with  her  hands  clasped. 

"  How  can  I  what,  Miss?  "  demanded  the  stout 
girl,  scenting  trouble. 

"  How  can  you,  when  we  are  eating  such  a  per- 
fect dinner  as  this,  be  contemplating  any  other 
future  occasion  when  we  possibly  shall  be  hun- 
gry?" 

The  others  laughed,  but  Heavy  looked  at  her 
school  friends  with  growing  contempt.  "  You 
talk — you  talk,"  she  stammered,  "  well!  you  don't 
talk  English — that  I'm  sure  of!  And  you  needn't 
put  it  all  on  me.  You  all  eat  with  good  appetites. 
And  you'd  better  thank  me,  not  quarrel  with  me. 
If  I  didn't  think  of  getting  nice  things  to  eat, 
you'd  miss  a  lot,  now  I  tell  you.  You  don't  know 
how  I  went  out  in  Mammy  Laura's  kitchen  this 
very  morning,  before  most  of  you  had  your  hair 
out  of  curl-papers,  and  just  slaved  to  plan  the 
meals  for  to-day." 

"Hear!  hear!  "  chorused  the  boys,  drumming 
with  their  knife  handles  on  the  table.  "  We're 
for  Jennie!    She's  all  right." 

"  See ! "  flashed  in  Mercy,  with  a  gesture. 
"  Miss  Stone  has  won  the  masculine  portion  of 
the  community  by  the  only  unerring  way — the  only 


THE  TRAGIC  INCIDENT  105 

straight  path  to  the  heart  of  a  boy  is  through  his 
stomach." 

14 1  guess  we  can  all  thank  Jennie,"  said  Ruth, 
laughing  quietly,  l4  for  her  attention  to  our  appe- 
tites. But  I  fear  if  she  had  expected  to  fast  her- 
self to-day  she'd  still  be  abed!  " 

They  were  all  lively  at  dinner,  and  they  spent 
a  lively  evening,  towards  the  end  of  which  Bob 
Steele  gravely  went  out  of  doors  and  brought  in 
an  old  boat  anchor,  or  kedge,  weighing  so  many 
pounds  that  even  he  could  scarcely  carry  it  up- 
stairs to  the  bed  chamber  which  he  shared  with 
Tom  and  Isadore. 

44  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  that  thing, 
Bobby  Steele?"  demanded  his  sister. 

44  Going  to  anchor  Busy  Izzy  to  it  with  a  rope. 
I  bet  he  won't  walk  far  in  his  sleep  to-night," 
declared  Bobbins. 

With  the  fishing  trip  in  their  minds,  all  were 
astir  early  the  next  morning.  Miss  Kate  had 
agreed  to  go  with  them,  for  Mercy  believed  that 
she  could  stand  the  trip,  as  the  sea  was  again  calm. 
She  could  remain  in  the  cabin  of  the  motor  boat 
while  the  others  were  fishing  off  the  rocks  for 
tautog  and  rock-bass.  The  boys  all  had  poles ;  but 
the  girls  said  they  would  be  content  to  cast  their 
lines  from  the  rock  and  hope  for  nibbles  from  the 
elusive  blackfish. 
The  Miraflame  was  a  roomy  craft  and  well 


106    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

furnished.  When  they  started  at  nine  o'clock  the 
party  numbered  eleven,  besides  the  boatman  and 
his  assistant.  To  the  surprise  of  Ruth — and  it 
was  remarked  in  whispers  by  the  other  girls,  too 
— Phineas,  the  boatkeeper,  had  chosen  Jack  Crab 
to  assist  him  in  the  management  of  the  motor 
boat. 

"  Jack  doesn't  have  to  be  at  the  light  till  dark. 
The  old  lady  gets  along  all  right  alone,"  explained 
Phineas.  "  And  it  ain't  many  of  these  'longshore- 
men who  know  how  to  handle  a  motor.  Jack's 
used  to  machinery." 

He  seemed  to  feel  that  it  was  necessary  to 
excuse  himself  for  hiring  the  hairy  man.  But 
Heavy  only  said: 

"  Well,  as  long  as  he  behaves  himself  I  don't 
care.  But  I  didn't  suppose  you  liked  the  fellow, 
Phin." 

"  I  don't.  It  was  Hobson's  choice,  Miss,"  re- 
turned the  sailor. 

Phineas,  the  girls  found,  was  a  very  pleasant 
and  entertaining  man.  And  he  knew  all  about 
fishing.  He  had  supplied  the  bait  for  tautog,  and 
the  girls  and  boys  of  the  party,  all  having  lived 
inland,  learned  many  things  that  they  hadn't 
known  before. 

"  Look  at  this ! "  cried  Madge  Steele,  the  first 
to  discover  a  miracle.  "  He  says  this  bait  for 
tautog  is  scallops!  Now,  that  quivering,  jelly-like 


THE   TRAGIC   INCIDENT  107 

body  is  never  a  scallop.  Why,  a  scallop  is  a  firm, 
white  lump " 

"  It's  a  mussel,"  said  Heavy,  laughing. 

"  It's  only  the  c  eye '  of  the  scallop  you  eat, 
Miss,"  explained  Phineas. 

"  Now  I  know  just  as  much  as  I  did  before," 
declared  Madge.  "  So  I  eat  a  scallop's  eye,  do 
I?  We  had  them  for  breakfast  this  very  morn- 
ing— with  bacon." 

"  So  you  did,  Miss.  I  raked  'em  up  myself  yes- 
terday afternoon,"explained  Phineas.  "  You  eat 
the  *  eye,'  but  these  are  the  bodies,  and  they  are 
the  reg'lar  natural  food  of  the  tautog,  or  black- 
fish." 

"  The  edible  part  of  the  scallop  is  that  muscle 
which  adheres  to  the  shell — just  like  the  muscle 
that  holds  the  clam  to  its  shell,"  said  Heavy,  who, 
having  spent  several  summers  at  the  shore,  was 
better  informed  than  her  friends. 

Phineas  showed  the  girls  how  to  bait  their 
hooks  with  the  soft  bodies  of  the  scallop,  warning 
them  to  cover  the  point  of  the  hooks  well,  and  to 
pull  quickly  if  they  felt  the  least  nibble. 

"  The  tautog  is  a  small-mouthed  fish — smaller, 
even,  than  the  bass  the  boys  are  going  to  cast  for. 
So,  when  he  touches  the  hook  at  all,  you  want  to 
grab  him." 

"Does  it  hurt  the  fish  to  be  caught?"  asked 
Helen,  curiously. 


108    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

Phineas  grinned.  "  I  never  axed  'em,  ma'am,n 
he  said. 

The  Miraflame  carried  them  swiftly  down  the 
cove,  or  harbor,  of  Sokennet  and  out  past  the 
light.  The  sea  was  comparatively  calm,  but  the 
surf  roared  against  the  rocks  which  hedged  in  the 
sand  dunes  north  of  the  harbor's  mouth.  It  was 
in  this  direction  that  Phineas  steered  the  launch, 
and  for  ten  miles  the  craft  spun  along  at  a  pace 
that  delighted  the  whole  party. 

"  We're  just  skimming  the  water!  "  cried  Tom 
Cameron.  "  Oh,  Nell  I  I'm  going  to  coax  father 
till  he  buys  one  for  us  to  use  on  the  Lumano." 

"  I'll  help  tease,"  agreed  his  twin,  her  eyes 
sparkling. 

Nita,  the  runaway,  looked  from  brother  to  sis- 
ter with  sudden  interest.  "  Does  your  father  give 
you  everything  you  ask  him  for?  "  she  demanded. 

"  Not  much !  "  cried  Tom.  "  But  dear  old  dad 
is  pretty  easy  with  us  and — Mrs.  Murchiston  says 
. — gives  in  to  us  too  much." 

"  But,  does  he  buy  you  such  things  as  boats — 
right  out — for  you  just  to  play  with?" 

"  Why,  of  course !  "  cried  Tom. 

"  And  I  couldn't  even  have  a  piano,"  muttered 
Nita,  turning  away  with  a  shrug.  "  I  told  him  he 
was  a  mean  old  hunks !  " 

"Whom  did  you  say  that  to?"  asked  Ruth, 
quietly. 


THE  TRAGIC  INCIDENT  109 

"Never  you  mind!"  returned  Nita,  angrily. 
"  But  that's  what  he  is." 

Ruth  treasured  these  observations  of  the  run- 
away. She  was  piecing  them  together,  and  al- 
though as  yet  it  was  a  very  patched  bit  of  work, 
she  was  slowly  getting  a  better  idea  of  who  Nita 
was  and  her  home  surroundings. 

Finally  the  Miraflame  ran  in  between  a  shelter- 
ing arm  of  rock  and  the  mainland.  The  sea  was 
very  still  in  here,  the  heave  and  surge  of  the  water 
only  murmuring  among  the  rocks.  There  was  an 
old  fishing  dock  'at  which  the  motor  boat  was 
moored.  Then  everybody  went  ashore  and  Phin- 
eas  and  Jack  Crab  pointed  out  the  best  fishing 
places  along  the  rocks. 

These  were  very  rugged  ledges,  and  the  water 
sucked  in  among  them,  and  hissed,  and  chuckled, 
and  made  all  sorts  of  gurgling  sounds  while  the 
tide  rose.  There  were  small  caves  and  little 
coves  and  all  manner  of  odd  hiding  places  in  the 
rocks. 

But  the  girls  and  boys  were  too  much  interested 
in  the  proposed  fishing  to  bother  about  anything 
else  just  then.  Phineas  placed  Ruth  on  the  side 
of  a  round-topped  boulder,  where  she  stood  on 
a  very  narrow  ledge,  with  a  deep  green  pool  at 
her  feet.  She  was  hidden  from  the  other  fishers — 
even  from  the  boys,  who  clambered  around  to  the 
tiny  cape  that  sheltered  the  basin  into  which  the 


HO    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

tnotor  boat  had  been  run,  and  from  the  point  of 
which  they  expected  to  cast  for  bass. 

"  Now,  Miss,"  said  the  boatkeeper,  "  down  at 
the  bottom  of  this  still  pool  Mr.  Tautog  is  feed- 
ing on  the  rocks.  Drop  your  baited  hook  down 
gently  to  him.  And  if  he  nibbles,  pull  sharply  at 
first,  and  then,  with  a  stead,  hand-over-hand  mo- 
tion, draw  him  in." 

Ruth  was  quite  excited;  but  once  she  saw  Nita 
and  the  man,  Crab,  walking  farther  along  the 
rocks,  and  Ruth  wondered  that  the  fellow  was  so 
attentive  to  the  runaway.  But  this  was  merely  a 
passing  thought.  Her  mind  returned  to  the  line 
she  watched. 

She  pulled  it  up  after  a  long  while;  the  hook 
was  bare.  Either  Mr.  Tautog  had  been  very, 
very  careful  when  he  nibbled  the  bait,  or  the  said 
bait  had  slipped  off.  It  was  not  easy  to  make  the 
jelly-like  body  of  the  scallop  remain  on  the  hook. 
But  Ruth  was  as  anxious  to  catch  a  fish  as  the 
other  girls,  and  she  had  watched  Phineas  with 
sharp  and  eager  eyes  when  he  baited  the 
hook. 

Ruth  dropped  it  over  the  edge  of  the  rock  again 

after  a  minute.     It  sank  down,  down,  down 

Was  that  a  nibble?  She  felt  the  faintest  sort  of 
a  jerk  on  the  line.  Surely  something  was  at  the 
bait! 

Again  the  jerk.    Ruth  returned  the  compliment 


THE  TRAGIC  INCIDENT  I XI 

by  giving  the  line  a  prompt  tug.  Instantly  she 
knew  that  she  had  hooked  him! 

"Oh!  oh!  oh!"  she  gasped,  in  a  rising  scale 
of  delight  and  excitement. 

She  pulled  in  on  the  line.  The  fish  was  heavy, 
and  he  tried  to  pull  his  way,  too.  The  blackfish 
is  not  much  of  a  fighter,  but  he  can  sag  back  and 
do  his  obstinate  best  to  remain  in  the  water  when 
the  fisher  is  determined  to  get  him  out. 

This  fellow  weighed  two  pounds  and  a  half 
and  was  well  hooked.  Ruth,  her  cheeks  glowing, 
her  eyes  dancing,  hauled  in,  and  in,  and  in 

There  he  came  out  of  the  water,  a  plump,  glis- 
tening body,  that  flapped  and  floundered  in  the  air, 
and  on  the  ledge  at  her  feet.  She  desired  mightily 
to  cry  out;  but  Phineas  had  warned  them  all  to 
be  still  while  they  fished.  Their  voices  might 
scare  all  the  fish  away. 

She  unhooked  it  beautifully,  seizing  it  firmly 
in  the  gills.  Phineas  had  shown  her  where  to  lay 
any  she  might  catch  in  a  little  cradle  in  the  rock 
behind  her.  It  was  a  damp  little  hollow,  and 
Mr.  Tautog  could  not  flop  out  into  the  sea  again. 

Oh !  it  was  fun  to  bait  the  hook  once  more  with 
trembling  fingers,  and  heave  the  weighted  line 
over  the  edge  of  the  narrow  ledge  on  which  she 
stood.  There  might  be  another — perhaps  even 
a  bigger  one — waiting  down  there  to  seize  upon 
the  bait. 


112    RUTH   FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

And  just  then  Mary  Cox,  her  hair  tousled  and 
a  distressfully  discontented  expression  on  her  face, 
came  around  the  corner  of  the  big  boulder. 

"  Oh !  Hullo !  "  she  said,  discourteously. 
'"You    here?" 

"  Sh !  "  whispered  Ruth,  intent  on  the  line  and 
the  pool  of  green  water. 

"What's  the  matter  with  you?"  snapped  The 
Fox.  "  Don't  say  you've  got  a  bite !  I'm  sick  of 
hearing  them  say  it  over  there — - — " 

"  I've  caught  one,"  said  Ruth,  with  pride,  point- 
ing to  the  glistening  tautog  lying  on  the  rock. 

"  Oh!  Of  course,  'twould  be  you  who  got  it," 
snarled  Mary.  "  I  bet  he  gave  you  the  best 
place." 

"Please  keep  still!  "  begged  Ruth.  "  I  believe 
I've  got  another  bite." 

"  Have  a  dozen  for  all  I  care,"  returned  Mary. 
"I  want  to  get  past  you." 

"Wait!    I  feel  a  nibble " 

But  Mary  pushed  rudely  by.  She  took  the  in- 
side of  the  path,  of  course.  The  ledge  was  very 
narrow,  and  Ruth  was  stooping  over  the  deep 
pool,  breathlessly  watching  the  line. 

With  a  half-stifled  scream  Ruth  fell  forward* 
flinging  out  both  hands.  Mary  clutched  at  her — 
she  did  try  to  save  her.  But  she  was  not  quick 
enough.  Ruth  dropped  like  a  plummet  and  the 
green  water  closed  over  her  with  scarcely  a  splash. 


THE   TRAGIC   INCIDENT  113 

Mary  did  not  cry  out.  She  was  speechless  with 
fear,  and  stood  with  clasped  hands,  motionless, 
upon  the  path. 

"  She  can  swim !  she  can  swim !  "  was  the 
thought  that  shuttled  back  and  forth  in  The  Fox's 
brain. 

But  moment  after  moment  passed  and  Ruth  did 
not  come  to  the  surface.  The  pool  was  as  calm 
as  before,  save  for  the  vanishing  rings  that  broke 
against  the  surrounding  rocks.  Mary  held  her 
breath.  She  began  to  feel  as  though  it  were  a 
dream,  and  that  her  school  companion  had  not 
really  fallen  into  the  pool.  It  must  be  an  hallu- 
cination, for  Ruth  did  not  come  to  the  surface 
again! 


CHAPTER   XV 

v.- 
TOM  CAMERON  TO  THE  RESCUE 

The  three  boys  were  on  the  other  side  of  the 
narrow  inlet  where  the  Miraflame  lay.  Phineas 
had  told  them  that  bass  were  more  likely  to  be 
found  upon  the  ocean  side;  therefore  they  were 
completely  out  of  sight. 

The  last  Tom,  Bob  and  Isadore  saw  of  the 
girls,  the  fishermen  were  placing  them  along  the 
rocky  path,  and  Mercy  was  lying  in  a  deck  chair 
on  the  deck  of  the  launch,  fluttering  a  handker- 
chief at  them  as  they  went  around  the  end  of  the 
reef. 

"  I  bet  they  don't  get  a  fish,'*  giggled  Isadore. 
"And  even  Miss  Kate's  got  a  line!  What  do 
girls  know  about  fishing?" 

"  If  there's  any  tautog  over  there,  I  bet  Helen 
and  Ruth  get  'em.  They're  all  right  in  any  game," 
declared  the  loyal  Tom. 

11  Madge  will  squeal  and  want  somebody  to 
take  the  fish  off  her  hook,  if  she  does  catch  one," 
grinned  Bob.  "  She  puts  on  lots  of  airs  because 
she's  the  oldest;  but  she's  a  regular  *  scare-cat,' 
after  all." 

114 


TOM   CAMERON   TO   THE  RESCUE  115 

"  Helen  and  Ruth  are  good  fellows,"  returned 
Tom,  with  emphasis.  "  They're  quite  as  good  fun 
as  the  ordinary  boy — of  course,  not  you,  Bobbins, 
or  Busy  Izzy  here;  but  they  are  all  right." 

"  What  do  you  think  of  that  Nita  girl?  "  asked 
Busy  Izzy,  suddenly. 

"  I  believe  there's  something  to  her,"  declared 
Bob,  with  conviction.  "  She  ain't  afraid  of  a  liv- 
ing thing,  I  bet!  " 

"There  is  something  queer  about  her,"  Tom 
added,  thoughtfully.  "  Have  you  noticed  how 
that  Crab  fellow  looks  at  her?  " 

"  I  see  he  hangs  about  her  a  good  bit,"  said 
Isadore,  quickly.     uWhy,  do  you  suppose?" 

"  That's  what  I'd  like  to  know,"  returned  Tom 
Cameron.  % 

They  were  now  where  Phineas  had  told  them 
bass  might  be  caught,  and  gave  their  attention  to 
their  tackle.  All  three  boys  had  fished  for  perch, 
pike,  and  other  gamey  fresh-water  fish;  but  this 
was  their  first  casting  with  a  rod  into  salt  water. 

"  A  true  disciple  of  Izaak  Walton  should  be 
dumb,"  declared  Tom,  warningly  eyeing  Isadore. 

"  Isn't  he  allowed  any  leeway  at  all — not  even 
when  he  lands  a  fish?"  demanded  the  irrepres- 
sible. 

"  Not  above  a  whisper,"  grunted  Bob  Steele, 
trying  to  bait  his  hook  with  his  thumb  instead  of 
the  bait  provided  by  Phineas.     "  Jingo !  " 


Il6    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  Old  Bobbins  has  got  the  first  bite,"  chuckled 
Tom,  under  his  breath,  as  he  made  his  cast. 

The  reel  whirred  and  the  hook  fell  with  a  light 
splash  into  a  little  eddy  where  the  water  seemed 
to  swirl  about  a  sunken  rock. 

"You  won't  catch  anything  there,"  asid  Isa- 
dore. 

"  I'll  gag  you  if  you  don't  shut  up,"  promised 
Tom. 

Suddenly  his  line  straightened  out.  The  hook 
seemed  to  be  sucked  right  down  into  a  hole  be- 
tween the  rocks,  and  the  reel  began  to  whir.  It 
stopped  and  Tom  tried  it. 

"  Pshaw!  that  ain't  a  bite,"  whispered  Isadore. 

At  Tom's  first  attempt  to  reel  in,  the  fish  that 
had  seized  his  hook  started — for  Spain!  At  least, 
it  shot  seaward,  and  the  boy  knew  that  Spain  was 
about  the  nearest  dry  land  if  the  fish  kept  on  in 
that  direction. 

"  A  strike!  "  Tom  gasped  and  let  his  reel  sing 
for  a  moment  or  two.  Then,  when  the  drag  of 
the  line  began  to  tell  on  the  bass,  he  carefully 
wound  in  some  of  it.  The  fish  turned  and  finally 
ran  toward  the  rocks  once  more.  Then  Tom 
wound  up  as  fast  as  he  could,  trying  to  keep  the 
line  taut. 

"  He'll  tangle  you  all  up,  Tommy,"  declared 
Bob,  unable,  like  Isadore,  to  keep  entirely  still. 

Tom  was  flushed  and  excited,  but  said  never  a 


TOM   CAMERON  TO  THE  RESCUE  117 

word.  He  played  the  big  bass  with  coolness  after 
all,  and  finally  tired  it  out,  keeping  it  clear  of  the 
tangles  of  weed  down  under  the  rock,  and  drew 
it  forth — a  plump,  flopping,  gasping  victim. 

Bob  and  Isadore  were  then  eager  to  do  as  well 
and  began  whipping  the  water  about  the  rocks 
with  more  energy  than  skill.  Tom,  delighted  with 
his  first  kill,  ran  over  the  rocks  with  the  fish  to 
show  it  to  the  girls.  As  he  surmounted  the  ridge 
of  the  rocky  cape  he  suddenly  saw  Nita,  the  run- 
away, and  Jack  Crab,  in  a  little  cove  right  below 
him.  The  girl  and  the  fisherman  had  come  around 
to  this  side  of  the  inlet,  away  from  Phineas  and 
the  other  girls. 

They  did  not  see  Tom  behind  and  above  them. 
Nita  was  not  fishing,  and  Crab  had  unfolded  a 
paper  and  was  showing  it  to  her.  At  this  distance 
the  paper  seemed  like  a  page  torn  from  some 
newspaper,  and  there  were  illustrations  as  well  as 
reading  text  upon  the  sheet  which  Crab  held  be- 
fore the  strange  girl's  eyes. 

"  There  it  is !  "  Tom  heard  the  lighthouse 
Keeper's  assistant  say,  in  an  exultant  tone.  "  You 
know  what  I  could  get  if  I  wanted  to  show  this  to 
the  right  parties.  Now,  what  d'ye  think  of  it, 
Sissy?" 

What  Nita  thought,  or  what  she  said,  Tom  did 
hot  hear.  Indeed,  scarcely  had  the  two  come  into 
his  line  of  vision,  and  he  heard  these  words,  when 


Il8    RUTH   FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

something  much  farther  away — across  the  inlet, 
in  fact — caught  the  boy's  attention. 

He  could  see  his  sister  and  some  of  the  other 
girls  fishing  from  the  rocky  path ;  but  directly  op- 
posite where  he  stood  was  Ruth.  He  saw  Mary 
Cox  meet  and  speak  with  her,  the  slight  struggle 
of  the  two  girls  for  position  on  the  narrow  ledge, 
and  Ruth's  plunge  into  the  water. 

"  Oh,  by  George !  "  shouted  Tom,  as  Ruth  went 
under,  and  he  dropped  the  flopping  bass  and  went 
down  the  rocks  at  a  pace  which  endangered  both 
life  and  limb.  His  shout  startled  Nita  and  Jack 
Crab.  But  they  had  not  seen  Ruth  fall,  nor  did 
they  understand  Tom's  great  excitement. 

The  inlet  was  scarcely  more  than  a  hundred 
yards  across;  but  it  was  a  long  way  around  to 
the  spot  where  Ruth  had  fallen,  or  been  pushed, 
from  the  rock.  Tom  never  thought  of  going  the 
long  way  to  the  place.  He  tore  off  his  coat,  kicked 
off  his  canvas  shoes,  and,  reaching  the  edge  of  the 
water,  dived  in  head  first  without  a  word  of  ex- 
planation to  the  man  and  girl  beside  him. 

He  dived  slantingly,  and  swam  under  water 
for  a  long  way.  When  he  came  up  he  was  a 
quarter  of  the  distance  across  the  inlet.  He  shook 
the  water  from  his  eyes,  threw  himself  breast  high 
out  of  the  sea,  and  shouted: 

"  Has  she  come  up?    I  don't  see  her!  " 

Nobody  but  Mary  Cox  knew  what  he  meant. 


TOM   CAMERON  TO  THE  RESCUE 


119 


Helen  and  the  other  girls  were  screaming  because 
they  had  seen  Tom  fling  himself  into  the  sea*  but 
they  had  not  seen  Ruth  fall  in. 

Nor  did  Mary  Cox  find  voice  enough  to  tell 
them  when  they  ran  along  the  ledge  to  try  and 
see  what  Tom  was  swimming  for.  The  Fox 
stood  with  glaring  eyes,  trying  to  see  into  the  deep 
pool.  But  the  pool  remain  unruffled  and  Ruth 
did  not  rise  to  the  surface. 

"  Has  she  come  up?  "  again  shouted  Tom,  ris- 
ing as  high  as  he  could  in  the  water,  and  swim- 
ming with  an  overhand  stroke. 

There  seemed  nobody  to  answer  him;  they  did 
not  know  what  he  meant.  The  boy  shot  through 
the  water  like  a  fish.  Coming  near  the  rock,  he 
rose  up  with  a  sudden  muscular  effort,  then  dived 
deep.  The  green  water  closed  over  him  and, 
when  Helen  and  the  others  reached  the  spot 
where  Mary  Cox  stood,  wringing  her  hands  and 
moaning,  Tom  had  disappeared  as  utterly  as 
Ruth  herself. 


CHAPTER  XVI 
ruth's  secret 

"  What  has  happened?  " 

"Where's  Ruth ?" 

"Mary  Cox!  why  don't  you  answer?" 

The  Fox  for  once  in  her  career  was  stunned. 
She  could  only  shake  her  head  and  wring  her 
hands.  Helen  was  the  first  of  the  other  girls 
to  suspect  the  trouble,  and  she  cried: 

"Ruth's  overboard!  That's  the  reason  Tom 
has  gone  in.  Oh,  oh!  why  don't  they  come  up 
again?  " 

And  almost  immediately  all  the  others  saw  the 
importance  of  that  question.  Ruth  Fielding  had 
been  down  fully  a  minute  and  a  half  now,  and 
Tom  had  not  come  up  once  for  air. 

Nita  had  set  off  running  around  the  head  of  the 
inlet,  and  Crab  shuffled  along  in  her  wake.  The 
strange  girl  ran  like  a  goat  over  the  rocks.  i 

Phineas,  who  had  been  aboard  the  motor  boat 
and  busy  with  his  famous  culinary  operations,  now 
came  lumbering  up  to  the  spot.  He  listened  to  a 
chorused  explanation  of  the  situation — tragic  in- 
deed in  its  appearance.     Phineas  looked  up  andj 

120 


RUTH'S  SECRET  121 

down  the  rocky  path,  and  across  the  inlet,  and 
seemed  to  swiftly  take  a  marine  "  observation." 
Then  he  snorted. 

"They're  all  right!"  he  exclaimed. 

"What?"  shrieked  Helen. 

"  All  right?  "  repeated  Heavy.    "  Why,  Phin- ] 
eas " 

She  broke  off  with  a  startled  gurgle.     Phineas 
turned  quickly,   too,   and  looked  over  the  high 
boulder.     There    appeared    the    head    of    Ruth,- 
Fielding  and,  in  a  moment,  the  head  of  Tom ' 
Cameron  beside  it. 

"  You  both  was  swept  through  the  tunnel  into 
the  pool  behind,  sir,"  said  Phineas,  wagging  his 
head. 

"  Oh,  I  was  never  so  scared  in  my  life,"  mur- 
mured Ruth,  clambering  down  to  the  path,  the 
water  running  from  her  clothing  in  little  streams. 

"  Me,  too  !  "  grunted  Tom,  panting.  "  The 
tide  sets  in  through  that  hole  awfully  strong." 

"  I  might  have  told  you  about  it,"  grunted 
Phineas;  "  but  I  didn't  suppose  airy  one  of  ye  was 
going  for  to  jump  into  the  sea  right  here." 

"  We  didn't — intentionally,"  declared  Ruth. 

"  How  ever  did  it  happen,  Ruthie  ?  "  demanded 
Heavy. 

There  was  a  moment's  silence.  Tom  grew  red 
in  the  face,  but  he  kept  his  gaze  turned  from 
Mary  Cox.    Ruth  answered  calmly  enough: 


122    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  It  was  my  own  fault.  Mary  was  just  coming 
along  to  pass  me.  I  had  a  bite.  Between  trying 
to  let  her  by  and  '  tending  my  fish/  I  fell  in — and 
now  I  have  lost  fish,  line,  and  all." 

"  Be  thankful  you  did  not  lose  your  life,  Miss 
Fielding,"  said  Aunt  Kate.  "  Come  right  down 
to  the  boat  and  get  those  wet  things  off.  You, 
too,  Tom." 

At  that  moment  Nita  came  to  the  spot.  "  Is 
she  safe?     Is  she  safe?  "  she  cried. 

"  Don't  I  look  so?"  returned  Ruth,  laughing 
gaily.  "  And  here's  the  fish  I  did  catch.  I  mustn't 
lose  him." 

Nita  stepped  close  to  the  girl  from  the  Red 
Mill  and  tugged  at  her  wet  sleeve. 

"  What  are  you  going  to  do  to  her?  "  she  whis- 
pered. 

"Do  to  who?" 

"  That  girl." 

"What  are  you  talking  about?"  demanded 
Ruth. 

"I  saw  her,"  said  Nita.  "I  saw  her  push 
you.  She  ought  to  be  thrown  into  the  water 
herself." 

"Hush!"  commanded  Ruth.  "You're  mis- 
taken.    You  didn't  see  straight,  my  dear." 

"  Yes,  I  did,"  declared  the  Western  girl,  firmly. 
"  She's  been  mean  to  you,  right  along.  I've  no- 
ticed it.    She  threw  you  in." 


RUTH'S   SECRET  123 

"  Don't  say  such  a  thing  again  1  "  commanded 
Ruth,  warmly.     "  You  have  no  right." 

14  Huh !  "  said  Nita,  eyeing  her  strangely.  "  It's 
your  own  business,  I  suppose.  But  I  am  not 
blind." 

"  I  hope  not,"  sad  Ruth,  calmly.  "  But  I  hope, 
too,  you  will  not  repeat  what  you  just  said — to 
anyone." 

"  Why — if  you  really  don't  want  me  to,"  said 
Nita,  slowly. 

"  Truly,  I  don't  wish  you  to,"  said  Ruth,  ear- 
nestly. "  I  don't  even  admit  that  you  are  right, 
mind " 

u  Oh,  it's  your  secret,"  said  Nita,  shortly,  and 
turned  away. 

And  Ruth  had  a  word  to  say  to  Tom,  too,  as 
they  hurried  side  by  side  to  the  boat,  he  carrying 
the  fish.   "  Now,  Tommy — remember!  "  she  said. 

"  I  won't  be  easy  in  my  mind,  just  the  same, 
while  that  girl  is  here,"  growled  Master  Tom. 

"  That's  foolish.    She  never  meant  to  do  it." 

"Huh!  She  was  scared,  of  course.  But  she's 
mean  enough " 

"  Stop !  somebody  will  hear  you.  And,  any- 
way," Ruth  added,  remembering  what  Nita  had 
said,  "  it's  my  secret." 

"True  enough;  it  is." 

"  Then  don't  tell  it,  Tommy,"  she  added,  with 
a  laugh. 


124    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

But  it  was  hard  to  meet  the  sharp  eye  of  Mercy 
Curtis  and  keep  the  secret.  "And  pray,  Miss, 
why  did  you  have  to  go  into  the  water  after  the 
fish?"  Mercy  demanded. 

"  I  was  afraid  he  would  get  away,"  laughed 
Ruth. 

"And  who  helped  you  do  it?"  snapped  the 
lame  girl. 

"Helped  me  do  what?" 

"  Helped  you  tumble  in." 

"  Now,  do  you  suppose  I  needed  help  to  do  so 
silly  a  thing  as  that?  "  cried  Ruth. 

"  You  needed  help  to  do  it  the  other  day  on 
the  steamboat,"  returned  Mercy,  silly.  "  And  I 
saw  The  Fox  following  you  around  that  way." 

"  Why,  what  nonsense  you  talk,  Mercy  Cur- 
tis!" 

But  Ruth  wondered  if  Mercy  was  to  be  so 
easily  put  off.     The  lame  girl  was  so  very  sharp. 

However,  Ruth  was  determined  to  keep  her 
secret.  Not  a  word  had  she  said  to  Mary  Cox. 
Indeed,  she  had  not  looked  at  her  since  she 
climbed  out  of  the  open  pool  behind  the  boulder 
and,  well-nigh  breathless,  reached  the  rock  after 
that  perilous  plunge.  Tom  she  had  sworn  to  si- 
lence, Nita  she  had  warned  to  be  still,  and  now 
Mercy's  suspicions  were  to  be  routed. 

•*  Poor,  poor  girl!  "  muttered  Ruth,  with  more 
sorrow  than  anger.     "  If  she  is  not  sorry  and 


RUTH'S   SECRET  125 

afaid  yet,  how  will  she  feel  when  she  awakes  in 
the  night  and  remembers  what  might  have  been?  " 

Nevertheless,  the  girl  from  the  Red  Mill  did 
not  allow  her  secret  to  disturb  her  cheerfulness. 
She  hid  any  feeling  she  might  have  had  against 
The  Fox.  When  they  all  met  at  dinner  on  the 
Miraflame,  she  merely  laughed  and  joked  about 
her  accident,  and  passed  around  dainty  bits  of 
the  baked  tautog  that  Phineas  had  prepared  espe- 
cially for  her. 

That  fisherman's  chowder  was  a  marvel,  and 
altogether  he  proved  to  be  as  gocd  a  cook  as 
Heavy  had  declared.  The  boys  had  caught  sev- 
eral bass,  and  they  caught  more  after  dinner. 
But  those  were  saved  to  take  home.  The  girls, 
however,  had  had  enough  fishing.  Ruth's  experi- 
ence frightened  them  away  from  the  slippery 
rocks. 

Mary  Cox  was  certainly  a  very  strange  sort  of 
a  girl;  but  her  present  attitude  did  not  surprise 
Ruth.  Mary  had,  soon  after  Ruth  entered  Briar- 
wood  Hall,  taken  a  dislike  to  the  younger  girl. 
Ruth's  new  club — the  Sweetbriars — had  drawn  al- 
most all  the  new  girls  in  the  school,  as  well  as 
many  of  Mary's  particular  friends;  while  the  Up 
and  Doing  Club,  of  which  Mary  was  the  leading 
spirit,  was  not  alone  frowned  upon  by  Mrs.  Tell- 
ingham  and  her  assistants,  but  lost  members  until 
-—as  Helen  Cameron  had  said — the  last  meeting 


126    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

of  the  Upedes  consisted  of  The  Fox  and  Helen 
herself. 

The  former  laid  all  this  at  Ruth  Fielding's 
door.  She  saw  Ruth's  influence  and  her  club  in- 
crease, while  her  own  friends  fell  away  from  her. 
Twice  Ruth  had  helped  to  save  Mary  from 
drowning,  and  on  neither  occasion  did  the  older 
girl  seem  in  the  least  grateful.  Now  Ruth  was 
saving  her  from  the  scorn  cf  the  other  girls  and 
— perhaps — a  request  from  Heavy's  Aunt  Kate 
that  Mary  pack  her  bag  and  return  home. 

Ruth  hoped  that  Mary  would  find  some  oppor- 
tunity of  speaking  to  her  alone  before  the  day 
was  over.  But,  even  when  the  boys  returned  from 
the  outer  rocks  with  a  splendid  string  of  bass,  and 
the  bow  of  the  Mirafiame  was  turned  homeward, 
The  Fox  said  never  a  word  to  her.  Ruth  crept 
away  into  the  bows  by  herself,  her  mind  much 
troubled.  She  feared  that  the  fortnight  at  Light- 
house Point  might  become  very  unpleasant,  if 
Mary  continued  to  be  so  very  disagreeable. 

Suddenly  somebody  tapped  her  on  the  arm. 
The  motor  boat  was  pushing  toward  the  mouth  of 
Sokennet  Harbor  and  the  sun  was  well  down  to- 
ward the  horizon.  The  girls  were  in  the  cabin, 
singing,  and  Madge  was  trying  to  make  her 
brother  sing,  too;  but  Bob's  voice  was  changing 
and  what  he  did  to  the  notes  of  the  familiar  tunes 
was  a  caution. 


RUTH'S   SECRET  I2? 

But  it  was  Tom  Cameron  who  had  come  to 
Ruth.  "See  here,"  said  the  boy,  eagerly.  "  See 
what  I  picked  up  on  the  rocks  over  there." 

"  Over  where?  "  asked  Ruth,  looking  curiously 
at  the  folded  paper  in  Tom's  hand. 

"Across  from  where  you  fell  in,  Ruth.  Nita 
and  that  Crab  fellow  were  standing  there  when  I 
went  down  the  rocks  and  dived  in  for  you.  And 
I  saw  them  looking  at  this  sheet  of  newspaper," 
and  Tom  began  to  slowly  unfold  it  as  he  spoke. 


CHAPTER   XVII 

WHAT   WAS    IN  THE    NEWSPAPER 

"Whatever  have  you  got  there,  Tom?" 
asked   Ruth,   curiously. 

"  Hush !  I  reckon  Crab  lost  it  when  you  fell 
in  the  water  and  stirred  us  all  up  so,"  returned 
the  boy,  with  a  grin. 

"Lost  that  paper?" 

"  Yes.  You  see,  it's  a  page  torn  from  the  Sun- 
day edition  of  a  New  York  daily.  On  this  side 
is  a  story  of  some  professor's  discoveries  in  an- 
cient Babylon." 

"  Couldn't  have  interested  Jack  Crab  much," 
remarked  Ruth,  smiling. 

"  That's  what  I  said  myself,"  declared  Tom, 
hastily.  "  Therefore,  I  turned  it  over.  And  this 
is  what  Crab  was  showing  that  Nita  girl,  I  am 
sure." 

Ruth  looked  at  the  illustrated  sheet  that  Tom 
spread  before  her.  There  was  a  girl  on  a  very 
spirited  cow  pony,  swinging  a  lariat,  the  loop  of 
which  was  about  to  settle  over  the  broadly 
spreading  horns  of  a  Texas  steer.  The  girl  was 
dressed  in  a  very  fancy  "  cow-girl "  costume,  and 

128 


WHAT  WAS   IN   THE   NEWSPAPER  129 

the  picture  was  most  spirited  indeed.  In  one  cor- 
ner, too,  was  a  reproduction  of  a  photograph  of 
the  girl  described  in  the  newspaper  article. 

"Why!  it  doesn't  look  anything  like  Nita," 
gasped  Ruth,  understanding  immediately  why 
Tom  had  brought  the  paper  to  her. 

"  Nope.  You  needn't  expect  it  to.  Those  pa« 
pers  use  any  old  photograph  to  make  illustrations 
from.     But  read  the  story." 

It  was  all  about  the  niece  of  a  very  rich  cattle 
man  in  Montana  who  had  run  away  from  the 
ranch  on  which  she  had  lived  all  her  life.  It  was 
called  Silver  Ranch,  and  was  a  very  noted  cattle 
range  in  that  part  of  the  West.  The  girl's  uncle 
raised  both  horses  and  cattle,  was  very  wealthy, 
had  given  her  what  attention  a  single  man  could 
in  such  a  situation,  and  was  now  having  a  country- 
wide search  made  for  the  runaway. 

"  Jane  Ann  Hicks  Has  Run  Away  From  a  For- 
tune" was  the  way  the  paper  put  it  in  a  big 
"scare  head"  across  the  top  of  the  page;  and 
the  text  went  on  to  tell  of  rough  Bill  Hicks,  of 
Bullhide,  and  how  he  had  begun  in  the  early  cattle 
days  as  a  puncher  himself  and  had  now  risen  to 
the  sole  proprietorship  of  Silver  Ranch. 

"  Bill's  one  possession  besides  his  cattle  and 
horses  that  he  took  any  joy  in  was  his  younger 
brother's  daughter,  Jane  Ann.  She  is  an  orphan 
and  came  to  Bill  and  he  has  taken  sole  care  of  hen 


130    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

(for  a  woman  has  never  been  at  Silver  Ranch, 
save  Indian  squaws  and  a  Mexican  cook  woman) 
since  she  could  creep.  Jane  Ann  is  certainly  the 
apple  of  Old  Bill's  eye. 

"  But,  as  Old  Bill  has  told  the  Bullhide  chief 
of  police,  who  is  sending  the  pictures  and  descrip- 
tion of  the  lost  girl  all  over  the  country,  '  Jane 
Ann  got  some  powerful  hifalutin'  notions.'  She 
is  now  a  well-grown  girl,  smart  as  a  whip,  pretty, 
afraid  of  nothing  on  four  legs,  and  just  as  igno- 
rant as  a  girl  brought  up  in  such  an  environment 
would  be.  Jane  Ann  has  been  reading  novels, 
perhaps.  As  the  Eastern  youth  used  to  fill  up  on 
cheap  stories  of  the  Far  West,  and  start  for  that 
wild  and  woolly  section  with  the  intention  of  wip- 
ing from  the  face  of  Nature  the  last  remnant  of 
the  Red  Tribes,  so  it  may  be  that  Jane  Ann  Hicks 
has  read  of  the  Eastern  millionaire  and  has 
started  for  the  Atlantic  seaboard  for  the  purpose 
of  lassoing  one — or  more — of  those  elusive  crea- 
tures. 

"  However,  Old  Bill  wants  Jane  Ann  to  come 
home.  Silver  Ranch  will  be  hers  some  day,  when 
Old  Bill  passes  over  the  Great  Divide,  and  he  be- 
lieves that  if  she  is  to  be  Montana's  coming  Cat- 
tle Queen  his  niece  would  better  not  know  too 
much  about  the  effete  East." 

And  in  this  style  the  newspaper  writer  had 
spread  before  his  readers  a  semi-humorous  ac- 


WHAT  WAS  IN  THE   NEWSPAPER  131 

count  (perhaps  fictitious)  of  the  daily  life  of  the 
missing  heiress  of  Silver  Ranch,  her  rides  over 
the  prairies  and  hills  on  half-wild  ponies,  the 
round-ups,  calf-brandings,  horse-breakings,  and 
all  other  activities  supposed  to  be  part  and  parcel 
of  ranch  life. 

"  My  goodness  me!  "  gasped  Ruth,  when  she 
had  hastily  scanned  all  this,  "  do  you  suppose  that 
any  sane  girl  would  have  run  away  from  all  that 
for  just  a  foolish  whim?  " 

"Just  what  I  say,"  returned  Tom.  "  Cracky! 
wouldn't  it  be  great  to  ride  over  that  range,  and 
help  herd  the  cattle,  and  trail  wild  horses,  and — 
and——" 

"  Well,  that's  just  what  one  girl  got  sick  of,  it 
seems,"  finished  Ruth,  her  eyes  dancing.  "  Now! 
whether  this  same  girl  is  the  one  we  know " 

"  I  bet  she  is,"  declared  Tom. 

"  Betting  isn't  proof,  you  know,"  returned 
Ruth,  demurely. 

"  No.  But  Jane  Ann  Hicks  is  this  young  lady 
who  wants  to  be  called  'Nita ' — Oh,  glory!  what 
a  name!  " 

"  If  it  is  so,"  Ruth  rejoined,  slowly,  "  I  don't 
so  much  wonder  that  she  wanted  a  fancy  name. 
4  Jane  Ann  Hicks ' !  It  sounds  ugly;  but  an  ugly 
name  can  stand  for  a  truly  beautiful  char- 
acter." 

"  That  fact  doesn't  appeal  to  this  runaway  girl, 


I32    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

I  guess,"  said  Tom.  "  But  the  question  is :  What 
shall  we  do  about  it?" 

"  I  don't  know  as  we  can  do  anything  about  it," 
Ruth  said,  slowly.  u  Of  course  we  don't  know 
that  this  Hicks  girl  and  Nita  are  the  same." 

"  What  was  Crab  showing  her  the  paper  for?  " 

"  What  can  Crab  have  to  do  with  it,  anyway?  " 
returned  Ruth,  although  she  had  not  forgotten 
the  interest  the  assistant  lighthouse  keeper  had 
shown  in  Nita  from  the  first. 

"  Don't  know.     But  if  he  recognized  her " 

"  From  the  picture?"  asked  Ruth. 

"  Well !  you  look  at  it.  That  drawing  of  the 
girl  on  horseback  looks  more  like  her  than  the 
photographic  half-tone,"  said  Tom.  "  She  looks 
just  that  wild  and  harum-scarum  1 " 

Ruth  laughed.  "  There  is  a  resemblance,"  she 
admitted.  "  But  I  don't  understand  why  Crab 
should  have  any  interest  in  the  girl,  anyway." 

"  Neither  do  I.  Let's  keep  still  about  it.  Of 
course,  we'll  tell  Nell,"  said  Tom.  "  But  no- 
body else.  If  that  old  ranchman  is  her  uncle  he 
ought  to  be  told  where  she  is." 

"  Maybe  she  was  not  happy  with  him,  after  all," 
said  Ruth,  thoughtfully. 

"  My  goodness!  "  Tom  cried,  preparing  to  go 
back  to  the  other  boys  who  were  calling  him.  "  I 
don't  see  how  anybody  could  be  unhappy  under 
such  conditions." 


WHAT  WAS  IN  THE  NEWSPAPER  133 

11  That's  all  very  well  for  a  boy,"  returned  the 
girl,  with  a  superior  air.  "But  think!  she  had 
no  girls  to  associate  with,  and  the  only  women 
were  squaws  and  a  Mexican  cook!  " 

Ruth  watched  Nita,  but  did  not  see  the  assistant 
lighthouse  keeper  speak  to  the  runaway  during 
the  passage  home,  and  from  the  dock  to  the 
bungalow  Ruth  walked  by  Nita's  side.  She  was 
tempted  to  show  the  page  of  the  newspaper  to 
the  other  girl,  but  hesitated.  What  if  Nita 
really  was  Jane  Hicks?  Ruth  asked  herself  how 
she  would  feel  if  she  were  burdened  with  that 
practical  but  unromantic  name,  and  had  to  live 
on  a  lonely  cattle  ranch  without  a  girl  to  speak 
to. 

"  Maybe  I'd  run  away  myself,"  thought  Ruth. 
"  I  was  almost  tempted  to  run  away  from  Uncle 
Jabez  when  I  first  went  to  live  at  the  Red  Mill." 

She  had  come  to  pity  the  strange  girl  since 
reading  about  the  one  who  had  run  away  from 
Silver  Ranch.  Whether  Nita  had  any  connec- 
tion with  the  newspaper  article  or  not,  Ruth  had 
begun  to  see  that  there  might  be  situations  which 
a  girl  couldn't  stand  another  hour,  and  from  which 
she  was  fairly  forced  to  flee. 

The  fishing  party  arrived  home  in  a  very  gay 
mood,  despite  the  incident  of  Ruth's  involuntary 
bath.  Mary  Cox  kept  away  from  the  victim  of 
the  accident  and  when  the  others  chaffed  Ruth, 


134    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

and  asked  her  how  she  came  to  topple  over  the 
rock,  The  Fox  did  not  even  change  color. 

Tom  scolded  in  secret  to  Ruth  about  Mary. 
"  She  ought  to  be  sent  home.  I'll  not  feel  that 
you're  safe  any  time  she  is  in  your  company.  I've 
a  mind  to  tell  Miss  Kate  Stone,"  he  said. 

"  I'll  be  dreadfully  angry  if  you  do  such  a  thing, 
Tom,"  Ruth  assured  him,  and  that  promise  was 
sufficient  to  keep  the  boy  quiet. 

They  were  all  tired  and  not  even  Helen  ob- 
jected when  bed  was  proposed  that  night.  In 
fact,  Heavy  went  to  sleep  in  her  chair,  and  they 
had  a  dreadful  time  waking  her  up  and  keeping 
her  awake  long  enough  for  her  to  undress,  say  her 
prayers,  and  get  into  bed.     • 

In  the  other  girls'  room  Ruth  and  her  com- 
panions spent  little  time  in  talking  or  frolicking. 
Nita  had  begged  to  sleep  with  Mercy,  with  whom 
she  had  spent  considerable  time  that  day  and 
evening;  and  the  lame  girl  and  the  runaway  were 
apparently  both  asleep  before  Ruth  and  Helen 
got  settled  for  the  night. 

Then  Helen  dropped  asleep  between  yawns 
and  Ruth  found  herself  lying  wide-awake,  star- 
ing at  the  faintly  illuminated  ceiling.  Of  a  sud- 
den, sleep  had  fled  from  her  eyelids.  The  hap- 
penings of  the  day,  the  mystery  of  Nita,  the 
meanness  of  Mary  Cox,  her  own  trouble  at  the 
mill,  the  impossibility  of  her  going  to  Briarwc*>d 


WHAT  WAS  IN  THE  NEWSPAPER 


135 


next  term  unless  she  found  some  way  of  raising 
money  for  her  tuition  and  board,  and  many,  many 
other  thoughts,  trooped  through  Ruth  Fielding's 
mind  for  more  than  an  hour. 

Mostly  the  troublesome  thoughts  were  of  her 
poverty  and  the  seeming  impossibility  of  her  ever 
discovering  any  way  to  earn  such  a  quantity  of 
money  as  three  hundred  and  fifty  dollars.  Her 
chum,  lying  asleep  beside  her,  did  not  dream  of 
this  problem  that  continually  troubled  Ruth's 
mind. 

The  clock  down  stairs  tolled  eleven  solemn 
strokes.  Ruth  did  not  move.  She  might  have 
been  sound  asleep,  save  for  her  open  eyes,  their 
gaze  fixed  upon  the  ceiling.  Suddenly  a  beam  of 
light  flashed  in  at  one  window,  swinging  from 
right  to  left,  like  the  blade  of  a  phantom  scythe, 
and  .back  again. 

Ruth  did  not  move,  but  the  beam  of  light  took 
her  attention  immediately  from  her  former 
thoughts.  Again  and  once  again  the  flash  of 
light  was  repeated.  Then  she  suddenly  realized 
what  it  was.  Somebody  was  walking  down  the 
path  toward  the  private  dock,  swinging  a  lan- 
tern. 

She  would  have  given  it  no  further  thought  had 
not  a  door  latch  clicked.  Whether  it  was  the 
latch  of  her  room,  or  another  of  the  bedrooms  on 
this  floor  of  the  bungalow,  Ruth  could  not  tell. 


136    RUTH   FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

But  in  a  moment  she  heard  the  balustrade  of  the 
stair  creak. 

"  It's  Izzy  again! "  thought  Ruth,  sitting  up  in 
bed.  "  He's  walking  in  his  sleep.  The  boys  did 
not  tie  him." 

She  crept  out  of  bed  softly  so  as  not  to  awaken 
Helen  or  the  other  girls  and  went  to  the  door. 
When  she  opened  it  and  peered  out,  there  was  no 
ghostly  figure  "  tight-roping  it  "  on  the  balustrade. 
But  she  heard  a  sound  below — in  the  lower  hall. 
Somebody  was  fumbling  with  the  chain  of  the 
front  door. 

"  He's  going  out!  I  declare,  he's  going  out!" 
thought  Ruth  and  sped  to  the  window. 

She  heard  the  jar  of  the  big  front  door  as  it 
was  opened,  and  then  pulled  shut  again.  She 
heard  no  step  on  the  porch,  but  a  figure  soon  flut- 
tered down  the  steps.  It  was  not  Isadore  Phelps, 
however.  Ruth  knew  that  at  first  glance.  In- 
deed, it  was  not  a  boy  who  started  away  from  the 
house,  running  on  the  grass  beside  the  graveled 
walk. 

Ruth  turned  back  hastily  and  looked  at  the 
other  bed — at  Mercy's  bed.  The  place  beside  the 
lame  girl  was  empty.     Nita  had  disappeared! 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

ANOTHER  NIGHT  ADVENTURE 

Ruth  was  startled,  to  say  the  least,  by  the  dis- 
covery that  Nita  was  absent.  And  how  softly 
the  runaway  girl  must  have  crept  out  of  bed  and 
out  of  the  room  for  Ruth — who  had  been  awake 
— not  to  hear  her! 

"She  certainly  is  a  sly  little  thing!"  gasped 
Ruth. 

But  as  she  turned  back  to  see  what  had  become 
of  the  figure  running  beside  the  path,  the  lantern 
light  was  flashed  into  her  eyes.  Again  the  beam 
was  shot  through  the  window  and  danced  for  a 
moment  on  the  wall  and  ceiling. 

"It  is  a  signal!"  thought  Ruth.  "There's 
somebody  outside  besides  Nita — somebody  who 
wishes  to  communicate  with  her." 

Even  as  she  realized  this  she  saw  the  lantern 
flash  from  the  dock.  That  was  where  it  had  been 
all  the  time.  It  was  a  dark-lantern,  and  its  ray 
had  been  intentionally  shot  into  the  window  of! 
their  room. 

The  figure  she  had  seen  steal  away  from  the 
bungalow  had  now  disappeared.     If  it  was  Nitag 

137 


tt38    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

— as  Ruth  believed — the  strange  girl  might  bS 
hiding  in  the  shadow  of  the  boathouse. 

However,  the  girl  from  the  Red  Mill  did  not 
stand  idly  at  the  window  for  long.  It  came  to  her 
that  somebody  ought  to  know  what  was  going  on. 
Her  first  thought  was  that  Nita  was  bent  on  run- 
ning away  from  her  new  friends — although,  as 
as  far  as  any  restraint  was  put  upon  her,  she  might 
have  walked  away  at  any  time. 

11  But  she  ought  not  to  go  off  like  this,"  thought 
Ruth,  hurrying  into  her  own  garments.  By  the 
faint  light  that  came  from  outside  she  could  see 
to  dress;  and  she  saw,  too,  that  Nita's  clothing 
had  disappeared. 

"Why,  the  girl  must  have  dressed,"  thought 
Ruth,  in  wonder.  "  How  could  she  have  done  it 
with  me  lying  here  awake?  " 

Meanwhile,  her  own  fingers  were  busy  and  in 
two  minutes  from  the  time  she  had  turned  from 
the  window,  she  opened  the  hall  door  again  and 
tiptoed  out. 

The  house  was  perfectly  still,  save  for  the  tick- 
ing of  the  big  clock.  She  sped  down  the  stair- 
way, and  as  she  passed  the  glimmering  face  of  the 
time-keeper  she  glanced  at  it  and  saw  that  the 
minute  hand  was  just  eight  minutes  past  the  hour. 

In  a  closet  under  the  stairs  were  the  girls'  out- 
side garments,  and  hats.  She  found  somebody's 
tam-o'-shanter   and  her  own   sweater-coat,   and 


ANOTHER  NIGHT  ADVENTURE      139 

slipped  both  on  in  a  hurry.  When  she  opened 
the  door  the  chill,  salt  air,  with  not  a  little  fog  in 
it,  breathed  into  the  close  hall. 

She  stepped  out,  pulled  the  door  to  and  latched 
it,  and  crossed  the  porch.  The  harbor  seemed 
deserted.  Two  or  three  night  lights  sparkled 
over  on  the  village  side.  What  vessels  rode  at 
anchor  showed  no  lights  at  their  moorings.  But 
the  great,  steady,  yellow  light  of  the  beacon  on 
the  point  shone  steadily — a  wonderfully  comfort- 
ing sight,  Ruth  thought,  at  this  hour  of  the  night. 

There  were  no  more  flashes  of  lantern  light 
from  the  dock.  Nor  did  she  hear  a  sound  from 
that  direction  as  she  passed  out  through  the  trimly 
cut  privet  hedge  and  took  the  shell  walk  to  the 
boathouse.  She  was  in  canvas  shoes  and  her 
step  made  no  sound.  In  a  moment  or  two  she 
was  in  the  shadow  again. 

Then  she  heard  voices — soft,  but  earnest  tones 
— and  knew  that  two  people  were  talking  out  there 
toward  the  end  of  the  dock.  One  was  a  deep 
voice;  the  other  might  be  Nita's — at  least,  it  was 
a  feminine  voice. 

"  Who  under  the  sun  can  she  have  come  here 
to  meet?  "  wondered  Ruth,  anxiously.  "  Not  one 
of  the  bovs.  This  can't  be  merely  a  lark  of  some 
kind— " 

Something  scraped  and  squeaked — a  sound  that 
shattered  the  silence  of  the  late   evening  com- 


140    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

pletely.  A  dog  instantly  barked  back  of  the 
the  bungalow,  in  the  kennels.  Other  dogs  on  the 
far  shore  of  the  cove  replied.  A  sleep-walking 
rooster  began  to  crow  clamorously,  believing  that 
it  was  already  growing  day. 

The  creaking  stopped  in  a  minute,  and  Ruth 
heard  a  faint  splash.     The  voices  had  ceased. 

"  What  can  it  mean?  "  thought  the  anxious  girl. 
She  could  remain  idle  there  behind  the  boathouse 
no  longer.  She  crept  forth  upon  the  dock  to 
reconnoiter.     There  seemed  to  be  nobody  there. 

And  then,  suddenly,  she  saw  that  the  catboat 
belonging  to  Mr.  Stone's  little  fleet — the  Jennie 
$.'  it  was  called,  named  for  Heavy  herself — was 
3ome  distance  from  her  moorings. 

The  breeze  was  very  light;  but  the  sail  was 
raised  and  had  filled,  and  the  catboat  was  drift- 
ing quite  rapidly  out  beyond  the  end  of  the  dock. 
It  was  so  dark  in  the  cockpit  that  Ruth  could  not 
distinguish  whether  there  were  one  or  two  figures 
aboard,  or  who  they  were;  but  she  realized  that 
somebody  was  off  on  a  midnight  cruise. 

"  And  without  saying  a  word  about  it !  "  gasped 
Ruth.  "Could  it  be,  after  all,  one  of  the  boys 
land  Nita?  Are  they  doing  this  just  for  the  fun 
of  it?" 

Yet  the  heavy  voice  she  had  heard  did  not 
sound  like  that  of  either  of  the  three  boys  at  the; 
bungalow.     Not  even  Bob  Steele,  when  his  un* 


ANOTHER  NIGHT  ADVENTURE      141 

fortunate  voice  was  pitched  in  its  very  lowest  key, 
could  rumble  like  this  voice. 

The  girl  of  the  Red  Mill  was  both  troubled  and 
frightened.  Suppose  Nita  and  her  companion 
should  be  wrecked  in  the  catboat?  She  did  not 
believe  that  the  runaway  girl  knew  anything  about 
working  a  sailboat.  And  who  was  her  companion 
on  this  midnight  escapade?  Was  he  one  of  the 
longshoremen? 

Suddenly  she  thought  of  Jack  Crab.  But 
Crab  was  supposed  to  be  at  the  lighthouse  at  this 
hour;  wasn't  he?  She  could  not  remember  what 
she  had  heard  about  the  lighthouse  keeper's  as- 
sistant. 

Nor  could  Ruth  decide  at  once  whether  to  go 
back  to  the  house  and  give  the  alarm,  or  not. 
Had  she  known  where  Phineas,  the  boatkeeper, 
lodged,  she  would  certainly  have  tried  to  awaken 
him.  He  ought  to  be  told  that  one  of  the  boats 
was  being  used — and,  of  course,  without  permis- 
sion. 

The  sail  of  the  catboat  drifted  out  of  sight 
while  she  stood  there  undecided.  She  could  not 
pursue  the  Jennie  S.  Had  she  known  where 
Phineas  was,  they  might  have  gone  after  the  cat- 
boat  in  the  Miraflame;  but  otherwise  Ruth  saw 
no  possibility  of  tracking  the  two  people  who  had 
borrowed  the  Jennie  S. 

Nor  was  she  sure  that  it  was  desirable  to  go  in$ 


142    RUTH   FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

awaken  the  household,  and  report  the  disappear- 
ance of  Nita.  The  cruise  by  night  might  be  a 
very  innocent  affair. 

"And  then  again,"  murmured  Ruth,  "there 
may  be  something  in  it  deeper  than  I  can  see. 
We  do  not  really  know  who  this  Nita  is.  That 
piece  in  the  paper  may  not  refer  to  her  at  all. 
Suppose,  instead  of  having  run  away  from  a  rich 
uncle  and  a  big  cattle  ranch,  Nita  comes  from  bad 
people?  Mrs.  Kirby  and  the  captain  knew  noth- 
ing about  her.  It  may  be  that  some  of  Nita's  bad 
friends  have  followed  her  here,  and  they  may 
mean  to  rob  the  Stones ! 

"  Goodness !  that's  a  very  bad  thought,"  mut- 
tered Ruth,  shaking  her  head.  "  I  ought  not  to 
suspect  the  girl  of  anything  like  that.  Although 
she  is  so  secret,  and  so  rough  of  speech,  she 
doesn't  seem  to  be  a  girl  who  has  lived  with  really 
bad  people. " 

Ruth  could  not  satisfy  herself  that  it  would  be 
either  right  or  wise  to  go  in  and  awaken  Miss 
Kate,  or  even  the  butler.  But  she  could  not  bring 
herself  to  the  point  of  going  to  bed,  either,  while 
Nita  was  out  on  the  water. 

She  couldn't  think  of  sleep,  anyway.  Not  until 
the  catboat  came  back  to  the  dock  did  she  move 
out  of  the  shadow  of  the  boathouse.  And  it  was 
long  past  one  o'clock  when  this  occurred.  The 
breeze  had  freshened,  and  the  Jennie  S.  had  to 


ANOTHER  NIGHT  ADVENTURE  143 

tack  several  times  before  the  boatman  made  the 
moorings. 

The  starlight  gave  such  slight  illumination  that 
Ruth  could  not  see  who  was  in  the  boat.  The 
sail  was  dropped,  the  boat  moored,  and  then» 
after  a  bit,  she  heard  a  heavy  step  upon  the  dock. 
Only  one  person  came  toward  her. 

Ruth  peered  anxiously  out  of  the  shadow.  A 
man  slouched  along  the  dock  and  reached  the  shell 
road.  He  turned  east,  moving  away  toward  the 
lighthouse.     It  was  Jack  Crab. 

"And  Nita  is  not  with  him!"  gasped  Ruth. 
"What  has  he  done  with  her?  Where  has  he 
taken  her  in  the  boat?     What  does  it  mean?  " 

She  dared  not  run  after  Crab  and  ask  him. 
She  was  really  afraid  of  the  man.  His  secret 
communication  with  Nita  was  no  matter  to  be 
blurted  out  to  everybody,  she  was  sure.  Nita 
had  gone  to  meet  him  of  her  own  free  will.  She 
was  not  obliged  to  sail  away  with  Crab  in  the 
catboat.  Naturally,  the  supposition  was  that  she 
had  decided  to  remain  away  from  the  bungalow 
of  her  own  intention,  too. 

"  It  is  not  my  secret,'*  thought  Ruth.  "  She 
was  merely  a  visitor  here.  Miss  Kate,  even,  had 
no  command  over  her  actions.  She  is  not  re- 
sponsible for  Nita — none  of  us  is  responsible. 

•"  I  only  hope  she  won't  get  into  any  trouble 
through  that  horrid  Jack  Crab.     And  it  seems  so 


144    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

ungrateful  for  Nita  to  walk  out  of  the  house  with- 
out saying  a  word  to  Heavy  and  Miss  Kate. 

"  I'd  best  keep  my  own  mouth  shut,  however, 
and  let  things  take  their  course.  Nita  wanted  to 
go  away,  or  she  would  not  have  done  so.  She 
seemed  to  have  no  fear  of  Jack  Crab;  otherwise 
she  would  not  have  met  him  at  night  and  gone 
away  with  him. 

"  Ruth  Fielding!  you  mind  your  own  business," 
argued  the  girl  of  the  Red  Mill,  finally  going  back 
toward  the  silent  house.  "  At  least,  wait  until 
we  see  what  comes  of  this  before  you  tell  every- 
thing you  know." 

And  so  deciding,  she  crept  into  the  house,  locked 
the  door  again,  got  into  her  room  without  dis- 
turbing any  of  the  other  girls,  and  so  to  bed  and 
finally  to  sleep,  being  little  the  wiser  for  her  mid- 
night escapade. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

THE    GOBLINS'    GAMBOL 

Helen  awoke  Ruth  in  the  morning  with  the 
question  that  was  bound  to  echo  and  re-echo 
through  the  bungalow  for  that,  and  subsequent 
days: 

"Where  is  Nita?" 

Ruth  could  truthfully  answer:  "  I  do  not 
know." 

Nor  did  anybody  else  know,  or  suspect,  or 
imagine.  What  had  happened  in  the  night  was 
known  only  to  Ruth  and  she  had  determined  not 
to  say  a  word  concerning  it  unless  she  should  be 
pointedly  examined  by  Miss  Kate,  or  somebody 
else  in  authority. 

Nobody  else  had  heard  or  seen  Nita  leave 
the  bungalow.  Indeed,  nobody  had  heard  Ruth 
get  up  and  go  out,  either.  The  catboat  rocked  at 
its  moorings,  and  there  was  no  trace  of  how  Nita 
had  departed. 

As  to  why  she  had  gone  so  secretly — well,  that 
was  another  matter.  They  were  all  of  the  opin- 
ion that  the  runaway  was  a  very  strange  girl. 
She  had  gone  without  thanking  Miss  Kate  or 

143 


1^6    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

Heavy  for  their  entertainment.       She  was  evi- 
dently an  ungrateful  girl. 

These  opinions  were  expressed  by  the  bulk  of 
the  party  at  the  bungalow.  But  Ruth  and  Helen 
and  the  latter's  brother  had  their  own  secret  about 
the  runaway.  Helen  had  been  shown  the  paper 
Tom  had  found.  She  and  Tom  were  convinced 
that  Nita  was  really  Jane  Ann  Hicks  and  that  she 
had  been  frightened  away  by  Jack  Crab.  Crab 
maybe  had  threatened  her. 

On  this  point  Ruth  could  not  agree.  But  she 
could  not  explain  her  reason  for  doubting  it  with- 
out telling  more  than  she  wished  to  tell;  therefore 
she  did  not  insist  upon  her  own  opinion. 

In  secret  she  read  over  again  the  article  in  the 
newspaper  about  the  lost  Jane  Ann  Hicks.  Some- 
thing she  had  not  noticed  before  now  came  un- 
der her  eye.  It  was  at  the  end  of  the  article — at 
the  bottom  of  the  last  column  on  the  page : 

"  Old  Bill  certainly  means  to  find  Jane  Ann  if 
he  can.  He  has  told  Chief  Penhampton,  of  Bull- 
hide,  to  spare  no  expense.  The  old  man  says 
he'll  give  ten  good  steers — or  five  hundred  dollars 
in  hard  money — for  information  leading  to  the  ap- 
prehension and  return  of  Jane  Ann.  And  he 
thinks  some  of  starting  for  the  East  himself  to 
hunt  her  up  if  he  doesn't  hear  soon." 

"  That  poor  old  man,"  thought  Ruth,  "  really 
loves  his  niece.     If  I  was  sure  Nita  was  the  girl 


THE   GOBUNS'   GAMBOL  147 

told  of  here,  I'd  be  tempted  to  write  to  Mr.  Hicks 
myself." 

But  there  was  altogether  too  much  to  do  at 
Lighthouse  Point  for  the  young  folks  to  spend 
much  time  worrying  about  Nita.  Phineas  said 
that  soft-shell  crabs  were  to  be  found  in  abundance 
at  the  mouth  of  the  creek  at  the  head  of  the  cove, 
and  that  morning  the  boys  made  nets  for  all  hands 
— at  least,  they  found  the  poles  and  fastened  the 
hoops  to  them,  while  the  girls  made  the  bags  of 
strong  netting — and  after  dinner  the  whole  party 
trooped  away  (Mercy  excepted)  to  heckle  the 
crabs  under  the  stones  and  snags  where  Phineas 
declared  they  would  be  plentiful. 

The  girls  were  a  bit  afraid  of  the  creatures  at 
first,  when  they  were  shaken  out  of  the  scoops; 
but  they  soon  found  that  the  poor  things  couldn't 
bite  until  the  new  shells  hardened.  The  boys 
took  off  their  shoes  and  stockings  and  waded  in, 
whereupon  Bob  suddenly  began  to  dance  and  bawl 
and  splash  the  water  all  over  himself  and  his  com- 
panions. 

"  What  under  the  sun's  the  matter  with  you, 
Bobbins?"  roared  Tom,  backing  away  from  his 
friend  to  escape  a  shower-bath. 

"  Oh!  he's  got  a  fit!  "  squealed  Isadore. 

"It's  cramps!"  declared  Heavy,  from  the 
shore,  and  in  great  commiseration. 

"  For  pity's  sake,  little  boy! "  cried  Bob's  sis- 


148    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

ter,  "what  is  the  matter  with  you  now?  He's 
the  greatest  child!  always  getting  into  some 
mess." 

Bob  continued  to  dance;  but  he  got  into  shoal 
water  after  a  bit  and  there  it  was  seen  that  he  was 
doing  a  sort  of  Highland  fling  on  one  foot.  The 
other  had  attached  to  it  a  big  hard-shell  crab;  and 
no  mortgage  was  ever  clamped  upon  a  poor  man's 
farm  any  tighter  than  Mr.  Crab  was  fastened 
upon  Bob's  great  toe. 

"Ooh!  Ooh!  Ooh!"  repeated  the  big  fel- 
low, whacking  away  at  the  crab  with  the  handle  of 
his  net. 

Isadore  tried  to  aid  him,  and  instead  of  hitting 
the  crab  with  his  stick,  barked  BobV  ankle  bone 
nicely. 

"  Ow !  Ow !  Ow !  "  yelled  the  youth  in  an  en- 
tirely different  key. 

The  girls  were  convulsed  with  laughter;  but 
Tom  got  the  big  crab  and  the  big  boy  apart.  Bob 
wasn't  satisfied  until  he  had  placed  the  hardshell 
between  two  stones  and  wrecked  it — smashed  it 
flat  as  a  pancake. 

"  There !  I  know  that  fellow  will  never  nip 
another  inoffensive  citizen,"  groaned  Bob,  and  he 
sat  on  a  stone  and  nursed  his  big  toe  and  his 
bruised  ankle  until  the  others  were  ready  to  go 
home. 

They  got  a  nice  mess  of  crabs;  but  Bob  refused 


THE  GOBLINS'   GAMBOL  149 

to  eat  any.  "  Never  want  to  see  even  crabs  a  la 
Newburgh  again,"  he  grunted.  "  And  I  don't  be- 
lieve that  even  a  fried  soft-shell  crab  is  dead 
enough  so  that  it  can't  bite  a  fellow !  " 

There  was  a  splendid  smooth  bit  of  beach  be- 
yond the  dock  where  they  bathed,  and  even 
Mercy  had  taken  a  dip  that  morning;  but  when 
the  girls  went  to  their  bedrooms  at  night  each 
girl  found  pinned  to  her  nightdress  a  slip  of  paper 
— evidently  a  carbon  copy  of  a  typewritten 
message.     It  read: 

"THE  GOBLINS'  GAMBOL— You  are  in- 

structed  to  put  on  your  bathing  suit,  take  a  wrap, 
and  meet  for  a  Goblins'  Gambol  on  the  beach  at 
ten  sharp.  The  tide  will  be  just  right,  and  there 
is  a  small  moon.     Do  not  fail." 

The  girls  giggled  a  good  deal  over  this.  They 
all  declared  they  had  not  written  the  message,  or 
caused  it  to  be  written.  There  was  a  typewriter 
downstairs,  Heavy  admitted;  but  she  had  never 
used  it.  Anyhow,  the  suggestion  was  too  tempt- 
ing to  refuse. 

At  ten  the  girls,  shrouded  in  their  cloaks  and 

I  water  proofs,  crept  down  stairs  and  out  of  the 

house.     The  door  was  locked,  and  they  could  not 

imagine  who  had  originated  this  lark.    The  boys 

idid  not  seem  to  be  astir  at  all. 


150    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  If  Aunt  Kate  hears  of  this  I  expect  she'll  say 
something,"  chuckled  Heavy.  "  But  weVe  been 
pretty  good  so  far.  Oh,  it  is  just  warm  and  nice. 
I  bet  the  water  will  be  fine." 

They  trooped  down  to  the  beach,  Mercy  limp- 
ing along  with  the  rest.  Ruth  and  Helen  gave 
her  aid  when  she  reached  the  sand,  for  her 
crutches  hampered  her  there. 

"Come  on!  the  water's  fine!"  cried  Madge, 
running  straight  into  the  smooth  sea. 

They  were  soon  sporting  in  it,  and  having  a 
great  time,  but  keeping  near  the  shore  because 
the  boys  were  not  there,  when  suddenly  Helen 
began  to  squeal — and  then  Madge.  Those  two 
likewise  instantly  disappeared  beneath  the  water, 
their  cries  ending  in  articulate  gurgles. 

"  Oh !  Oh !  "  cried  Heavy.  "  There's  some- 
body  here !     Something's  got  me  !  " 

She  was  in  shallow  water,  and  she  promptly  sat 
down.  Whatever  had  grabbed  her  vented  a 
mighty  grunt,  for  she  pinioned  it  for  half  a  min- 
ute under  her  weight.  When  she  could  scramble 
up  she  had  to  rescue  what  she  had  fallen  on,  and 
it  proved  to  be  Isadore — very  limp  and  "done  up." 

"  It's  the  boys,"  squealed  Helen,  coming  to  the 
surface.  "  Tom  swam  under  water  and  caught 
me. 

"And  this  is  that  horrid  Bob!  "  cried  Madge. 
"What  have  you  got  there,  Heavy?" 


THE   GOBLINS'   GAMBOL  151 

11 1  really  don't  know,"  giggled  the  stout  girl. 
"  What  do  you  think  it  looks  like?  " 

11  My — goodness — me !  "  panted  Busy  Izzy. 
"  I  thought — it — it  was  Ruth !  Why — why  don't 
you  look  where  you're  sitting,  Jennie  Stone?" 

But  the  laugh  was  on  Isadore  and  he  could  not 
turn  the  tables.  The  boys  had  been  out  to  the 
diving  float  watching  the  girls  come  in.  And  in 
a  minute  or  two  Miss  Kate  joined  them,  too.  It 
was  she  who  had  planned  the  moonlight  dip  and 
for  half  an  hour  they  ran  races  on  the  sand,  and 
swam,  and  danced,  and  had  all  sorts  of  queer 
larks. 

Miss  Kate  was  about  to  call  them  out  and 
"  shoo  "  the  whole  brood  into  the  house  again 
when  they  heard  a  horse,  driven  at  high  speed, 
coming  over  the  creek  bridge. 

"  Hullo !  here  comes  somebody  in  a  hurry," 
said  Tom. 

"  That's  right.  He's  driving  this  way,  not  to- 
ward the  railroad  station,"  rejoined  Heavy. 
"  It's  somebody  from  Sokennet." 

"Who  can  it  be  this  time  of  night?"  was  her 
aunt's  question  as  they  waited  before  the  gate- 
way as  the  carriage  wheeled  closer. 

"  There's  a  telegraph  office,  you  know,  at  So- 
kennet," said  Heavy,  thoughtfully.     "  And — yes! 
— that's  Brickman's  old  horse.     Hullo!  " 

"Whoa!     Hullo,  Miss!"  exclaimed  a  hoarse 


152    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

voice.  "  Glad  I  found  you  up.  Here's  a  message 
for  you." 

"  For  me?  "  cried  Heavy,  and  dripping  as  she 
was,  ran  out  to  the  carriage  . 

"  Sign  on  this  place,  Miss.  Here's  a  pencil. 
Thank  you,  Miss;  it's  paid  for.  That's  the 
message,"  and  he  put  a  telegraph  envelope  into 
her  hand. 

On  the  outside  of  the  envelope  was  written, 
"  Stone,  Lighthouse  Point."  Under  the  lamp  on 
the  porch  Heavy  broke  the  seal  and  drew  out  the 
message,  while  the  whole  party  stood  waiting. 
She  read  it  once  to  herself,  and  was  evidently  im- 
mensely surprised.  Then  she  read  it  out  loud, 
and  her  friends  were  just  as  surprised  as  she  was: 

"  Stone,  Lighthouse  Point,  Sokennet. — Hold 
onto  her.     I  am  coming  right  down. 

"W.  Hicks/' 


CHAPTER  XX 

"WHAR's  MY  JANE  ANN?" 

Three  of  Heavy's  listeners  knew  in  an  instant 
what  the  telegram  meant — who  it  was  from,  and 
who  was  mentioned  in  it — Ruth,  Helen  and  Tom. 
But  how,  or  why  the  telegram  had  been  sent  was 
as  great  a  mystery  to  them  as  to  the  others; 
therefore  their  surprise  was  quite  as  unfeigned  as 
that  of  the  remaining  girls  and  boys. 

"  Why,  somebody's  made  a  mistake,"  said 
Heavy.  "  Such  a  telegram  couldn't  be  meant  for 
me." 

"  And  addressed  only  to  '  Stone,'  said  her  aunt. 
"  It  is,  of  course,  a  mistake." 

"And  who  are  we  to  hold  on  to?"  laughed 
Mary  Cox,  prepared  to  run  into  the  house  again. 

"  Wait!  "  cried  Mercy,  who  had  come  leaning 
upon  Madge's  arm  from  the  shore.  "  Don't  you 
see  who  that  message  refers  to?  " 

"No!  "  they  chorused. 

"  To  that  runaway  girl,  of  course,"  said  the 
cripple.     "  That's  plain  enough,  I  hope." 

"To  Nita!"  gasped  Heavy. 

"But  who  is  it  that's  coming  here  for  her? 
153 


J54    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

fAnd  how  did  (  W.  Hicks  '  know  she  was  here?  M 
demanded  Ruth. 

"  Maybe  Captain  and  Mrs.  Kirby  told  all  about 
her  when  they  got  to  Boston.  News  of  her,  and 
where  she  was  staying,  got  to  her  friends, "  said 
Mercy  Curtis.  "  That's  the  '  why  and  wherefore  ' 
of  it — believe  me  !  " 

"  That  sounds  very  reasonable,''  admitted 
Aunt  Kate.  "  The  Kirbys  would  only  know  our 
last  name  and  would  not  know  how  to  properly 
address  either  Jennie  or  me.  Come,  now!  get  in 
on  the  rubber  mats  in  your  rooms  and  rub  down 
well.  The  suits  will  be  collected  and  rinsed  out 
and  hung  to  dry  before  Mammy  Laura  goes  to 
bed.  If  any  of  you  feel  the  least  chill,  let  me 
know/' 

But  it  was  so  warm  and  delightful  a  night  that 
there  was  no  danger  of  colds.  The  girls  were  so 
excited  by  the  telegram  and  had  so  much  to  say 
about  the  mystery  of  Nita,  the  castaway,  that  it 
was  midnight  before  any  of  them  were  asleep. 

However,  they  had  figured  out  that  the  writer 
of  the  telegram,  leaving  New  York,  from  which 
it  was  sent  at  half  after  eight,  would  be  able  to 
take  a  train  that  would  bring  him  to  Sandtown 
very  early  in  the  morning;  and  so  the  excited 
young  folks  were  all  awake  by  five  o* clock. 

It  was  a  hazy  morning,  but  there  was  a  good 
breeze  from  the  land.       Tom  declared  he  heard 


"WHAR'S   MY  JANE  A1JN?M  155 

the  train  whistle  for  the  Sandtown  station,  and 
everybody  dressed  in  a  hurry,  believing  that  "  W. 
Hicks  "  would  soon  be  at  the  bungalow. 

There  were  no  public  carriages  at  the  station 
to  meet  that  early  train,  and  Miss  Kate  had 
doubted,  about  sending  anybody  to  meet  the  per- 
son who  had  telegraphed.  In  something  like  an 
hour,  however,  they  saw  a  tall  man,  all  in  black, 
striding  along  the  sandy  road  toward  the  house. 

As  he  came  nearer  he  was  seen  to  be  a  big- 
boned  man,  with  broad  shoulders,  long  arms,  and 
a  huge  reddish  mustache,  the  ends  of  which 
drooped  almost  to  his  collar.  Such  a  mustache 
none  of  them  had  ever  seen  before.  His  black 
clothes  would  have  fitted  a  man  who  weighed  a 
good  fifty  pounds  more  than  he  did,  and  so  the 
garments  hung  baggily  upon  him.  He  wore  a 
huge,  black  slouched  hat,  with  immensely  broad 
brim. 

He  strode  immediately  to  the  back  door — that 
being  the  nearest  to  the  road  by  which  he  came — 
and  the  boys  and  girls  in  the  breakfast  room 
crowded  to  the  windows  to  see  him.  He  looked 
neither  to  right  nor  left,  however,  but  walked 
right  into  the  kitchen,  where  they  at  once  heard 
a  thunderous  voice  demand: 

"Whar's  my  Jane  Ann?  Whar's  my  Jane; 
Ann,  I  say?1' 

Mammy  Laura  evidently  took  his  appearance, 


156    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

and  demand  in  no  good  part.  She  began  to 
sputter,  but  his  heavy  voice  rode  over  hers  and 
quenched  it: 

"Keep  still,  oV  woman!  I  want  to  see  your 
betters.     Whar's  my  Jane  Ann  ?  " 

"  Lawsy  massy!  what  kine  ob  a  man  is  yo'?  " 
squealed  the  fat  old  colored  woman.  "  T'  come 
combustucatin'  inter  a  pusson's  kitchen  in  disher 
way " 

"  Be  still,  ol'  woman !  "  roared  the  visitoi.  again. 
"Whar's  my  Jane  Ann?" 

The  butler  appeared  then  and  took  the  strange 
visitor  in  hand. 

"  Come  this  way,  sir.  Miss  Kate  will  see  you," 
he  said,  and  led  the  big  man  into  the  front  of  the 
house. 

"  I  don't  want  none  o'  your  *  Miss  Kates,' " 
growled  the  stranger.     "  I  want  my  Jane  Ann." 

Heavy's  little  Aunt  looked  very  dainty  indeed 
when  she  appeared  before  this  gigantic  West- 
erner. The  moment  he  saw  her,  off  came  his  big 
hat,  displaying  a  red,  freckled  face,  and  a  head 
as  bald  as  an  egg.  He  was  a  very  ugly  man,  sav- 
ing when  he  smiled;  then  innumerable  humorous 
wrinkles  appeared  about  his  eyes  and  the  pale 
blue  eyes  themselves  twinkled  confidingly. 

"  Your  sarvent,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  Your 
name  Stone?  " 

"  It  is,  sir.  I  presume  you  are  *  W.  Hicks'  ?  n 
she  said. 


"WHAR'S    MY   JANE   ANN?"  157 

"That's  me— Bill  Hicks.  Bill  Flicks,  of  Bull- 
hide,  Montanny." 

"  I  hope  you  have  not  come  here,  Mr.  Hicks, 
to  be  disappointed.  But  I  must  tell  you  at  the 
start,"  said  Miss  Kate,  "that  I  never  heard  of 
you  before  i  received  your  very  remarkable  tele- 
gram." 

"  Huh !  that  can  well  be,  ma'am — that  can  well 
be.  But  they  got  your  letter  at  the  ranch,  and 
Jib,  he  took  it  into  Colonel  Penhampton,  and  the 
Colonel  telegraphed  me  to  New  York,  where  I'd 
come  a-hunting  her " 

"  Wait,  wait,  wait!  "  cried  Miss  Kate,  eagerly. 
"  I  don't  understand  at  all  what  you  are  talking 
about." 

"  Why — why,  I'm  aimin'  to  talk  about  my  Jane 
Ann,"  exclaimed  the  cattle  man. 

"  Jane  Ann  who?  "  she  gasped. 

"  Jane  Ann  Hicks.  My  little  gal  what  you've 
got  her  and  what  you  wrote  about ■" 

"  You  are  misinformed,  sir,"  declared  Miss 
Kate.  "  I  have  never  written  to  you — or  to  any- 
body else — about  any  person  named  Jane  Ann 
Hicks." 

"  Oh,  mebbe  you  don't  know  her  by  that  name. 
She  had  some  hifalutin'  idee  before  she  vamoosed 
about  not  likin'  her  name — an'  I  give  her  that 
thar  name  myself!"  added  Bill  Hicks,  in  an 
aggrieved  tone. 

"  Nor  have  I  written  about  any  other  little  girl, 


158    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

or  by  any  other  name,"  rejoined  Miss  Kate.     "  I 
have  written  no  letter  at  all." 

"You  didn't  write  to  Silver  Ranch  to  tell  us 
that  my  little  Jane  Ann  was  found?  "  gasped  the 
man. 

11  No,  sir." 

"  Somebody  else  wrote,  then?" 

"  I  do  not  know  it,  if  they  did,"  Miss  Kate  de- 
clared. 

"Then  somebody's  been  a-stringin'  of  me?" 
he  roared,  punching  his  big  hat  with  a  clenched, 
freckled  fist  in  a  way  that  made  Miss  Kate  jump. 

"Oh!"  she  cried. 

"  Don't  you  be  afeared,  ma'am,"  said  the  big 
man,  more  gently.  "  But  I'm  mighty  cast  down 
— I  sure  am!  Some  miser'ble  coyote  has  fooled 
me.  That  letter  said  as  how  my  little  niece  was 
wrecked  on  a  boat  here  and  that  a  party  named 
Stone  had  taken  her  into  their  house  at  Light- 
house Point " 

"  It's  Nita !  "  cried  Miss  Kate. 

"What's  that?"  he  demanded. 

"You're  speaking  of  Nita,  the  castaway!  " 

"  I'm  talkin'  of  my  niece,  Jane  Ann  Hicks,"  de- 
clared the  rancher.  "  That's  who  I'm  talking  of.". 

"  But  she  called  herself  Nita,  and  would  not  tell 
us  anything  about  herself." 

"It  might  be,  ma'am.  The  little  skeezicks!" 
chuckled  the  Westerner,  his  eyes  twinkling  sud- 


"WHAR'S   MY   JANE  ANN?"  159 

cTenly.     "  That's  a  mighty  fancy  name—*  Nita.' 
And  so  she  is  here  with  you,  after  all?  " 

11  No." 

"  Not  here?  n  he  exclaimed,  his  big,  bimy  face 
reddening  again. 

11  No,  sir.  I  believe  she  has  been  here — your 
niece." 

"And  where'd  she  go?  What  you  done 
with  her?"  he  demanded,  his  overhanging  red- 
dish eyebrows  coming  together  in  a  threatening 
scowl. 

"Hadn't  you  better  sit  down,  Mr.  Hicks,  and 
let  me  tell  you  all  about  it?"  suggested  Miss 
Kate. 

"  Say,  Miss !  "  he  ejaculated.  "  I'm  anxious,  I 
be.  When  Jane  Ann  first  run  away  from  Silver 
Ranch,  I  thought  she  was  just  a-playin'  off  some 
of  her  tricks  on  me.  I  never  supposed  she  was 
in  earnest  'bout  it — no,  ma'am! 

"  I  rid  into  Bullhide  arter  two  days.  And  in- 
stead of  findin'  her  knockin'  around  there,  I  finds 
her  pony  at  the  greaser's  corral,  and  learns  that 
she's  took  the  train  East.  That  did  beat  me.  I 
didn't  know  she  had*  any  money,  but  she'd  bought 
a  ticket  to  Denver,  and  it  took  a  right  smart  of 
money  to  do  it. 

"  I  went  to  Colonel  Penhampton,  I  did,"  went 
on  Hicks,  "  and  told  him  about  it.  He  heated  up 
the  wires  some  'twixt  Bullhide  and  Denver;  but 


160    RUTH   FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

she'd  fell  out  o'  sight  there  the  minute  she'd 
landed.  Denver's  some  city,  ma'am.  I  finds 
that  out  when  I  lit  out  arter  Jane  Ann  and  struck 
that  place  myself. 

"  Wal!  'twould  be  teejious  to  you,  ma'am,  if  I 
told  whar  I  have  chased  arter  that  gal  these  en- 
durin'  two  months.  Kad  to  let  the  ranch  an' 
ev'rythin'  else  go  to  loose  ends  while  I  follered 
news  of  her  all  over.  My  gosh,  ma'am!  how 
many  gals  there  is  runs  away  from  their  homes ! 
Ye  wouldn't  believe  the  number  'nless  ye  was 
huntin'  for  a  pertic'lar  one  an'  got  yer  rope  on 
so  many  that  warn't  her!  " 

"  You  have  had  many  disappointments,  sir?" 
said  Miss  Kate,  beginning  to  feel  a  great  sympa- 
thy for  this  uncouth  man. 

He  nodded  his  great,  bald,  shining  head.  "  I 
hope  you  ain't  going  to  tell  me  thar's  another  in 
store  for  me  right  yere,"  he  said,  in  a  much 
milder  voice. 

"  I  cannot  tell  you  where  Nita — if  she  is  your 
niece — is  now,"  said  Miss  Kate,  firmly. 

"  She's  left  you?" 

"  She  went  away  some  time  during  the  night — 
night  before  last." 

"What  for?"  he  asked,  suspiciously. 

"  I  don't  know.  We  none  of  us  knew.  We 
made  her  welcome  and  said  nothing  about  send- 
ing her  away,  or  looking  for  her  friends.      I  did 


"WHAR'S   MY  JANE  ANN?"  161 

not  wish  to  frighten  her  away,  for  she  is  a 
strangely  independent  girl " 

"You  bet  she  is  I"  declared  Mr.  Hicks,  em- 
phatically. 

11 1  hoped  she  would  gradually  become  confid- 
ing, and  then  we  could  really  do  something  for 
her.  But  when  we  got  up  yesterday  morning  she 
had  stolen  out  of  the  house  in  the  night  and  was 
gone." 

"And  ye  don't  know  whar  Jane  Ann  went?" 
he  said,  with  a  sort  of  groan. 

Miss  Kate  shook  her  head;  but  suddenly  a 
voice  interrupted  them.  Ruth  Fielding  parted 
the  curtains  and  came  into  the  room. 

"  I  hope  you  will  pardon  me,  Miss  Kate,"  she 
said  softly,.  "  And  this  gentleman,  too.  I  be- 
lieve I  can  tell  him  how  Nita  went  away — and  per- 
haps through  what  I  know  he  may  be  able  to  find 
her  again." 


CHAPTER  XXI 

CRAB  MAKES  HIS  DEMAND 

Bill  Hicks  beckoned  the  girl  from  the  Red 
Mill  forward.  "  You  come  right  here,  Miss,"  he 
said,  "  and  let's  hear  all  about  it.  I'm  a-honin' 
for  my  Jane  Ann  somethin'  awful — ye  don't  know 
what  a  loss  she  is  to  me.  And  Silver  Ranch  don't 
seem  the  same  no  more  since  she  went  away." 

"Tell  me,"  said  Ruth,  curiously,  as  she  came 
forward,  "  was  what  the  paper  said  about  it  all 
true?" 

"Why,  Ruth,  what  paper  is  this?  What  do 
you  know  about  this  matter  that  I  don't  know?  " 
cried  Miss  Kate. 

"I'm  sorry,  Miss  Kate,"  said  the  girl;  "but 
it  wasn't  my  secret  and  I  didn't  feel  I  could  tell 
you " 

"  I  know  what  you  mean,  little  Miss,"  Hicks  in- 
terrupted. "  That  New  York  newspaper — with 
the  picter  of  Jane  Ann  on  a  pony  what  looked  like 
one  o'  these  horsecar  horses?  Most  ev'rythin' 
they  said  in  that  paper  was  true  about  her — and 
the  ranch." 

"  And  she  has  had  to  live  out  there  without  any 
decent  woman,  and  no  girls  to  play  with,  and  all 
that?" 

162 


CRAB   MAKES   HIS   DEMAND  163 

"Wall"  exclaimed  Mr.  Hicks.  "That  ain't 
sech  a  great  crime;  is  it?  " 

"  I  don't  wonder  so  much  she  ran  away,"  Ruth 
said,  softly.  "  But  I  am  sorry  she  did  not  stay 
here  until  you  came,  sir." 

"But  where  is  she?  "  chorused  both  the  ranch- 
man and  Miss  Kate,  and  the  latter  added:  "  Tell 
what  you  know  about  her  departure,  Ruth." 

So  Ruth  repeated  all  that  she  had  heard  and 
seen  on  the  night  Nita  disappeared  from  the 
Stone  bungalow. 

"  And  this  man,  Crab,  can  be  found  down  yon- 
der at  the  lighthouse?"  demanded  the  ranchman, 
rising  at  the  end  of  Ruth's  story. 

11  He  is  there  part  of  the  time,  sir,"  Miss  Kate 
said.  "  He  is  a  rather  notorious  character  around 
here — a  man  of  bad  temper,  I  believe.  Perhaps 
you  had  better  go  to  the  authorities  first — — " 

"  What  authorities?  "  demanded  the  Westerner 
in  surprise. 

11  The  Sokennet  police."- 

Bill  Hicks  snorted.  "  I  don't  need  police  in 
this  case,  ma'am,"  he  said.  "  I  know  what  to  do 
with  this  here  Crab  when  I  find  him.  And  if 
harm's  come  to  my  Jane  Ann,  so  much  the  worse 
for  him." 

"  Oh,  Ihope  you  will  be  patient,  sir,"  said  Miss 
Kate. 

"  Nita  was   not   a  bit  afraid   of   him,   I   am 


164    RUTH   FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

sure,"  Ruth  hastened  to  add.  "  He  would  not 
hurt  her." 

"  No.  I  reckon  he  wants  to  make  money  out 
of  me,"  grunted  Bill  Hicks,  who  did  not  lack 
shrewdness.  "  He  sent  the  letter  that  told  me 
she  was  here,  and  then  he  decoyed  her  away  some- 
where so's  to  hold  her  till  I  came  and  paid  him 
the  reward.  Wal !  let  me  git  my  Jane  Ann  back, 
safe  and  sound,  and  he's  welcome  to  the  five  hun- 
dred dollars  I  offered  for  news  of  her." 

"  But  first,  Mr.  Hicks,"  said  Miss  Kate,  rising 
briskly,  "  you'll  come  to  breakfast.  You  have 
been  traveling  all  night " 

"That's  right,  ma'am.  No  chance  for  more 
than  a  peck  at  a  railroad  sandwich — tough  crit- 
ters, them!- " 

"  Ah!  here  is  Tom  Cameron,"  she  said,  having 
parted  the  portieres  and  found  Tom  just  passing 
through  the  hall.  "  Mr.  Hicks,  Tom.  Nita's 
uncle." 

"Er— Mr.  Bill  Hicks,  of  the  Silver  Ranch!" 
ejaculated  Tom. 

"  So  you've  hearn  tell  of  me,  too,  have  you, 
younker?"  quoth  the  ranchman,  good-naturedly. 
"Well,  my  fame's  spreadin'." 

"  And  it  seems  that  /  am  the  only  person  here 
who  did  not  know  all  about  your  niece,"  said  Miss 
Kate  Stone,  drily. 

"Oh,  no,  ma'am!  "  cried  Tom.     "  It  was  only 


CRAB   MAKES   HIS   DEMAND  165 

(Ruth  and  Helen  and  I  who  knew  anything  about 
it.  And  we  only  suspected.  You  see,  we  found 
the  newspaper  article  which  told  about  that  bully 
ranch,  and  the  fun  that  girl  had " 

"  Jane  Ann  didn't  think  'twas  nice  enough  for 
her,"  grunted  the  ranchman.  "  She  wanted  high- 
heeled  slippers — and  shift — shift-on  hats — and  a 
pianner!  Common  things  warn't  good  enough 
for  Jane  Ann." 

Ruth  laughed,  for  she  wasn't  at  all  afraid  of  the 
big  Westerner.  "  If  chiffon  hats  and  French 
heeled  slippers  would  have  kept  Nita — I  mean, 
Jane  Ann — at  home,  wouldn't  it  have  been  cheaper 
for  you  to  have  bought  'em?"  she  asked. 

"  It  shore  would!  "  declared  the  cattleman,  em- 
phatically. "  But  when  the  little  girl  threatened 
to  run  away  I  didn't  think  she  meant  it." 

Meanwhile  Miss  Kate  had  asked  Tom  to  take 
the  big  man  up  stairs  where  he  could  remove  the 
marks  of  travel.  In  half  an  hour  he  was  at  the 
table  putting  away  a  breakfast  that  made  even 
Mammy  Laura  open  her  eyes  in  wonder. 

"  I'm  a  heavy  feeder,  Miss,"  he  said  apologet- 
ically, to  Ruth.  "  Since  I  been  East  I  often  have 
taken  my  breakfast  in  two  restaurants,  them  air 
waiters  stare  so.  I  git  it  in  relays,  as  ye  might 
say.  Them  restaurant  people  ain't  used  to  see- 
ing a  man  eat.  And  great  cats!  how  they  do 
charge  for  vittles!  " 


166    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

But  ugly  as  he  was,  and  big  and  rude  as  he  was, 
there  was  a  simplicity  and  open-heartedness  about 
Mr.  Hicks  that  attracted  more  than  Ruth  Field- 
'ing.  The  boys,  because  Tom  was  enthusiastic 
about  the  old  fellow,  came  in  first.  But  the  girls 
were  not  far  behind,  and  by  the  time  Mr.  Hicks 
had  finished  breakfast  the  whole  party  was  in  the 
room,  listening  to  his  talk  of  his  lost  niece,  and 
stories  of  Silver  Ranch  and  the  growing  and 
wonderful  West. 

Mercy  Curtis,  who  had  a  sharp  tongue  and  a 
sharper  insight  into  character,  knew  just  how  to 
draw  Bill  Hicks  out.  And  the  ranchman,  as  soon 
as  he  understood  that  Mercy  was  a  cripple,  paid 
her  the  most  gallant  attentions.  And  he  took  the 
lame  girl's  sharp  criticisms  in  good  part,  too. 

"  So  you  thought  you  could  bring  up  a  girl 
baby  from  the  time  she  could  crawl  till  she  was 
old  enough  to  get  married — eh?"  demanded 
Mercy,  in  her  whimsical  way.  "  What  a  smart 
man  you  are,  Mr.  Bill  Hicks!  " 

"  Ya-as — ain't  I?"  he  groaned.  "I  see  now 
I  didn't  know  nothin'." 

"  Not  a  living  thing!  "  agreed  Mercy,  "  Bring- 
ing up  a  girl  among  a  lot  of  cow— cow — what  do 
you  call  'em?" 

"  Punchers,"  he  finished,  wagging  his  head. 

"  That's  it.  Nice  society  for  a  girl  Likely  to 
make  her  ladylike  and  real  happy,  too." 


CRAB   MAKES    HIS   DEMAND  167 

"Great  cats!"  ejaculated  the  ranchman,  "I 
thought  I  was  doin'  the  square  thing  by  Jane 
Ann " 

"  And  giving  her  a  name  like  that,  too  !  "  broke 
in  Mercy.     "  How  dared  you?" 

"  Why — why "     stammered     Mr.     Hicks. 

"  It  was  my  grandmother's  name — and  she  was  as 
spry  a  woman  as  ever  I  see." 

"  Your  grandmother's  name!  "  gasped  Mercy. 
"Then,  what  right  had  you  to  give  it  to  your 
niece?  And  when  she  wa=>  a  helpless  baby,  too! 
Wasn't  she  good  enough  to  have  a  name  of  her 
own — and  one  a  little  more  modern?  " 

"  Miss,  you  stump  me — you  sure  do!"  de- 
clared Mr.  Hicks, 'with  a  sigh.  "  I  never  thought 
a  gal  cared  so  much  for  them  sort  o'  things. 
They're  surprisin'  different  from  boys;  ain't 
they?" 

"  Hope  you  haven't  found  it  out  too  late, 
Mister  Wild  and  Woolly,"  said  Mercy,  biting  her 
speech  off  in  her  sharp  way.  "  You  had  better 
take  a  fashion  magazine  and  buy  Nita — or  what- 
ever she  wants  to  call  herself — clothes  and  hats 
like  other  girls  wear.  Maybe  you'll  be  able  to 
keep  her  on  a  ranch,  then." 

"  Wal,  Miss !  I'm  bound  to  believe  you've  got 
the  rights  of  it.  I  ain't  never  had  much  knowl- 
edge of  women-folks,  and  that's  a  fact " 

He  was  interrupted  by  the  maid  coming  to  the 


168    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

door.  "  There's  a  boy  here,  Miss  Kate,"  she 
said,  "who  is  asking  for  the  gentleman." 

"Asking  for  the  gentleman?"  repeated  Miss 
Kate. 

"Yes,  ma'am.  The  gentleman  who  has  just, 
come.     The  gentleman  from  the  West." 

"Axing  for  me?"  cried  the  ranchman,  getting 
up  quickly. 

"  It  must  be  for  you,  sir,"  said  Aunt  Kate. 
,#  Let  the  boy  come  in,  Sally." 

In  a  minute  a  shuffling,  tow-headed,  bare-footed 
lad  of  ten  years  or  so  entered  bashfully.  He 
was  a  son  of  one  of  the  fishermen  living  along 
the  Sokennet  shore. 

"You  wanter  see  me,  son?"  demanded  the 
Westerner.     "Bill  Hicks,  of  Bullhide?" 

"  Dunno  wot  yer  name  is,  Mister,"  said  the 
boy.  "  But  air  you  lookin'  for  a  gal  that  was 
brought  ashore  from  the  wreck  of  that  lumber 
schooner?  " 

"  That's  me !  "  cried  Mr.  Hicks. 

"  Then  I  got  suthin'  for  ye,"  said  the  boy,  and 
thrust  a  soiled  envelope  toward  him.  "  Jack 
Crab  give  it  to  me  last  night.  He  said  I  was  to 
come  over  this  morning  an'  wait  for  you  to  come. 
Phin  says  you  had  come,  w'en  I  got  here.  That's 
all." 

"  Hold  on  I  "  cried  Tom  Cameron,  as  the  boy 
started  to  go  out,  and  Mr.  Hicks  ripped  open 


CRAB   MAKES  HIS  DEMAND  169 

the  envelope.     "Say,  where  is  this  Crab  man?" 

"Dunno." 

11  Where  did  he  go  after  giving  you  the  note?  " 

"Dunno." 

Just  then  Mr.  Hicks  uttered  an  exclamation 
that  drew  all  attention  to  him  and  the  fisherman's 
boy  slipped  out. 

"  Great  cats !  "  roared  Bill  Micks.  "  Listen  to 
this,  folks!     What  d'ye  make  of  it? 

" '  Now  I  got  you  right.  Whoever  you  be, 
you  are  wanting  to  get  hold  of  the  girl.  I 
know  where  she  is.  You  won't  never  know  unless 
I  get  that  five  hundred  dols.  the  paper  talked 
about.  You  leave  it  at  the  lighthouse.  Mis 
Purling  will  take  care  of  it  and  I  reckon  on  get- 
ting it  from  her  when  I  want  it.  When  she  has 
got  the  five  hundred  dols.  I  will  let  you  know 
how  to  find  the  girl.  So,  no  more  at  present, 
from 

"'J.  Crab/ 

"Listen  here  to  it,  will  ye?  Why,  if  once  I 
get  my  paws  on  this  here  Crab " 

"You  want  to  get  the  girl  most;  don't  you?" 
interrupted  Mercy,  sharply. 

"Of  course!" 

11  Then  you'd  better  see  if  paying  the  money  to 
him — just  as  he  says — won't  bring  her  to  you. 
You  offered  the  reward,  you  know." 


170    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  UGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  But  maybe  he  doesn't  really  know  anything 
about  Nita !  "  cried  Heavy. 

"And  maybe  he  knows  just  where  she  is,"  said 
Ruth. 

"  Wal!  he  seems  like  a  mighty  sharp  feller," 
admitted  the  cattleman,  seriously.  "  I  want  my 
Jane  Ann  back.  I  don't  begredge  no  five  hundred 
dollars.  I'm  a-goin'  over  to  that  lighthouse  and 
see  what  this  Missus  Purling — you  say  she's  the 
keeper? — knows  about  it.  That's  what  I'm  go- 
ing to  do !  "  finished  Hicks  with  emphasis. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

THIMBLE   ISLAND 

Miss  Kate  said  of  course  he  could  use  the 
buckboard  and  ponies,  and  it  was  the  ranchman's 
own  choice  that  the  young  folks  went,  too.  There 
was  another  wagon,  and  they  could  all  crowd 
aboard  one  or  the  other  vehicle — even  Mercy  Cur- 
tis went. 

"  I  don't  believe  that  Crab  man  will  show  up 
at  the  light,"  Ruth  said  to  Tom  and  Helen. 
"  He's  plainly  made  up  his  mind  that  he  won't 
meet  Nita's  friends  personally.  And  to  think  of 
his  getting  five  hundred  dollars  so  easy!  "  and  she 
sighed. 

For  the  reward  Mr.  Hicks  had  offered  for  news 
of  his  niece,  which  would  lead  to  her  apprehension 
and  return  to  his  guardianship,  would  have  en- 
tirely removed  from  Ruth  Fielding's  mind  her 
anxiety  about  Briarwood.  Let  the  Tintacker 
Mine,  in  which  Uncle  Jabez  had  invested,  remain 
a  deep  and  abiding  mystery,  if  Ruth  could  earn 
that  five  hundred  dollars. 

But  if  Jack  Crab  had  placed  Nita  in  good  hands 
and  was  merely  awaiting  an  opportunity  to  ex- 

171 


172    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

change  her  for  the  reward  which  the  runaway's 
uncle  had  offered,  then  Ruth  need  not  hope  for 
any  portion  of  the  money.  And  certainly,  Crab 
would  make  nothing  by  hiding  the  girl  away  and 
refusing  to  give  her  up  to  Mr.  Hicks. 

"And  if  I  took  money  for  telling  Mr.  Hicks 
where  Nita  was,  why — why  it  would  be  almost 
like  taking  blood  money!  Nita  liked  me,  I  be- 
lieve ;  I  think  she  ought  to  be  with  her  uncle,  and 
I  am  sure  he  is  a  nice  man.  But  it  would  be  play- 
ing the  traitor  to  report  her  to  Mr.  Hicks — and 
that's  a  fact!  "  concluded  Ruth,  taking  herself  to 
task.  "  I  could  not  think  of  earning  money  in 
such  a  contemptible  way." 

Whether  her  conclusion  was  right,  or  not,  it 
seemed  right  to  Ruth,  and  she  put  the  thought  of 
the  reward  out  of  her  mind  from  that  instant. 
The  ranchman  had  taken  a  liking  to  Ruth  and 
when  he  climbed  into  the  buckboard  he  beckoned 
the  girl  from  the  Red  Mill  to  a  seat  beside  him. 
He  drove  the  ponies,  but  seemed  to  give  those 
spirited  little  animals  very  little  attention.  Ruth 
knew  that  he  must  be  used  to  handling  horses  be- 
side which  the  ponies  seemed  like  tame  rabbits. 

"  Now  what  do  you  think  of  my  Jane  Ann?  " 
was  the  cattleman's  question.  "  Ain't  she  pretty 
cute?" 

"  I  am  not  quite  sure  that  I  know  what  you 
mean  by  that:  Mr.  Hicks,"  Ruth  answered,  de- 


THIMBLE  ISLAND 


173 


murely.  "  But  she  isn't  as  smart  as  she  ought  to 
be,  or  she  wouldn't  have  gone  off  with  Jack 
Crab." 

"  Huh!  "  grunted  the  other.  "  Mebbe  you're 
right  on  that  p'int.  He  didn't  have  no  drop  on 
her — that's  so !  But  ye  can't  tell  what  sort  of  a 
yarn  he  give  her." 

"  She  would  better  have  had  nothing  to  say  to 
him,"  said  Ruth,  emphatically.  "  She  should 
have  confided  in  Miss  Kate.  Miss  Kate  and  Jen- 
nie were  treating  her  just  as  nicely  as  though  she 
were  an  invited  guest.  Nita — or  Jane,  as  you  call 
her — may  be  smart,  but  she  isn't  grateful  in  the 
least." 

"  Oh,  come  now,  Miss " 

"No.  She  isn't  grateful,"  repeated  Ruth. 
11  She  never  even  suggested  going  over  to  the  life 
saving  station  and  thanking  Cap'n  Abinadab  and 
his  men  for  bringing  her  ashore  from  the  wreck 
of  the  Whipstitch." 

"  Great  cats!  I  been  thinkin'  of  that,"  sighed 
the  Westerner.  "  I  want  to  see  them  and  tell  'em 
what  I  think  of  'em.  I  'spect  Jane  Ann  never 
thought  of  such  a  thing." 

"  But  I  liked  her,  just  the  same,"  Ruth  went 
on,  slowly.  "  She  was  bold,  and  brave,  and  I 
guess  she  wouldn't  ever  do  a  really  mean  thing." 

"  I  reckon  not,  Miss ! "  agreed  Mr.  Hicks. 
"  My  Jane  Ann  is  plumb  square,  she  is.       I  can 


174    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

forgive  her  for  running  away  from  us.  Mebbe 
thar  was  reason  for  her  gittin'  sick  of  Silver 
iRanch.  I — I  stand  ready  to  give  her  'bout 
ev'rything  she  wants — in  reason — when  I  git  her 
back  thar." 

"Including  a  piano?"  asked  Ruth,  curiously* 

"  Great  cats!  that's  what  we  had  our  last  spat 
about,"  groaned  Bill  Hicks.  "  Jib,  he's  had  ad- 
vantages, he  has.  Went  to  this  here  Carlisle 
Injun  school  ye  hear  so  much  talk  about.  It 
purty  nigh  ruined  him,  but  he  can  break  hosses. 
And  thar  he  l'arned  to  play  one  o'  them  pianners. 
We  was  all  in  to  Bullhide  one  time — we'd  been 
shipping  steers — and  we  piled  into  the  Songbird 
Dancehall — had  the  place  all  to  ourselves,  for  it 
was  daytime — and  Jib  sot  down  and  fingered  them 
keys  somethin'  scand'lous.  Bashful  Ike — he's  my 
foreman — says  he  never  believed  before  that  a 
sure  'nough  man  like  Jibbeway  Pottoway  could 
ever  be  so  ladylike! 

"Wal!  My  Jane  Ann  was  jest  enchanted  by 
that  thar  pianner — yes,  Miss!  She  was  jest  en- 
chanted. And  she  didn't  give  me  no  peace  from 
then  on.  Said  she  wanted  one  o'  the  critters  at 
the  ranch  so  Jib  could  give  her  lessons.  And  I 
jest  thought  it  was  foolishness — and  it  cost  money 
— oh,  well!  I  see  now  I  was  a  pretty  mean  old 
hunks " 

"  That's  what  I  heard  her  call  you  once," 


THIMBLE  ISLAND  175 

chuckled  Ruth.  "  At  least,  I  know  now  that  she 
was  speaking  of  you,  sir." 

11  She  hit  me  off  right,"  sighed  Mr.  Hicks.  "  I 
hadn't  never  been  used  to  spending  money.  But, 
laws,  child!  I  got  enough.  I  been  some  waked 
up  since  I  come  East.  Folks  spend  money  here, 
that's  a  fact." 

They  found  Mother  Purling's  door  opened  at 
the  foot  of  the  lighthouse  shaft,  and  the  flutter  of 
an  apron  on  the  balcony  told  them  that  the  old 
lady  had  climbed  to  the  lantern. 

"  She  doesn't  often  do  that,"  said  Heavy. 
11  Crab  does  all  the  cleaning  and  polishing  up 
there." 

"  He's  left  her  without  any  help,  then,"  Ruth 
suggested.     "  That's  what  it  means." 

And  truly,  that  is  what  it  did  mean,  as  they 
found  out  when  Ruth,  the  Cameron  twins,  and 
the  Westerner  climbed  the  spiral  staircase  to  the 
gallery  outside  the  lantern. 

"  Yes;  that  Crab  ain't  been  here  this  morning," 
Mother  Purling  admitted  when  Ruth  explained 
that  there  was  reason  for  Mr.  Hicks  wishing  to 
see  him.  "  He  told  me  he  was  mebbe  going  off  for 
a  few  days.  '  Then  you  send  me  a  substitute,  Jack 
Crab,'  I  told  him;  but  he  only  laughed  and  said 
he  wasn't  going  to  send  a  feller  here  to  work  into 
his  job.  He  is  handy,  I  allow.  But  I'm  too  old 
to  be  left  all  stark  alone  at  this  light.     I'm  going 


176    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

to  have  another  man  when  Jack's  month  is  out, 
just  as  sure  as  eggs  is  eggs !  " 

Mr.  Hicks  was  just  as  polite  to  the  old  lady  as 
he  had  been  to  Miss  Kate;  and  he  quickly  ex- 
plained his  visit  to  the  lighthouse,  and  showed 
her  the  two  letters  that  Crabb  had  written. 

"Well,  ain't  that  the  beatenest?"  she  cried. 
"  Jack  Crab  is  just  as  mean  as  they  make  'em,  I 
always  did  allow.  But  this  is  the  capsheaf  of  all 
his  didoes.  And  you  say  he  run  off  with  the  little 
girl  the  other  night  in  Mr.  Stone's  catboat?  I 
dunno  where  he  could  have  taken  her.  And  that 
day  he'd  been  traipsing  off  fishing  with  you  folks 
on  the  motor  launch;  hadn't  he?  He's  been 
leavin'  me  to  do  his  work  too  much.  This  set- 
tles it.  Me  and  Jack  Crab  parts  company  at  the 
end  of  this  month!  " 

"  But  what  is  Mr.  Hicks  to  do  about  his  niece, 
Mother  Purling?"  cried  Ruth.  "Will  he  pay 
the  five  hundred  dollars  to  you ?  " 

"I  just  guess  he  won't!"  cried  the  old  lady, 
vigorously.  "  I  ain't  goin'  to  be  collector  for 
Crab  in  none  of  his  risky  dealin's — no,  ma'am !  " 

"Then  lie  says  he  won't  give  Nita  up,"  ex- 
claimed Tom. 

"  Can't  help  it.  I'm  a  government  employe. 
I'  can't  afford  to  be  mixed  up  in  no  such  didoes." 

"  Now,  I  say,  Missus ! "  exclaimed  the  cattle- 
man, "this  is  shore  too  bad!     Ye  might  kno\* 


THIMBLE  ISLAND  177 

somethin'  about  whar  I  kin  find  this  yere  reptile 
by  the  name  of  Crab — though  I  reckon  a  crab  is 
a  inseck,  not  a  reptile,"  and  the  ranchman  grinned 
ruefully. 

The  young  folks  could  scarcely  control  their 
laughter  at  this,  and  the  idea  that  a  crustacean 
might  be  an  insect  was  never  forgotten  by  the 
Cameron  twins  and  Ruth  Fielding. 

"  I  dunno  where  he  is,"  said  Mother  Purling, 
shortly.  "  I  can't  keep  track  of  the  shiftless  crit- 
ter. Ha'f  the  time  when  he  oughter  be  here  he's 
out  fishing  in  the  dory,  yonder — or  over  to  Thim- 
ble Island." 

"Which  is  Thimble  Island?"  asked  Tom, 
quickly. 

"  Just  yon,"  said  the  lighthouse  keeper,  point- 
ing to  a  cone-shaped  rock — perhaps  an  imagina- 
tive person  would  call  it  thimble-shaped — lying 
not  far  off  shore.  The  lumber  schooner  had  gone 
on  the  reef  not  far  from  it. 

"Ain't  no  likelihood  of  his  being  over  thar 
now,  Missus?"  asked  Mr.  Hicks,  quickly. 

"  An'  ye  could  purty  nigh  throw  a  stone  to  it !  " 
scoffed  the  old  woman.  "  Not  likely.  B'sides,  I 
dunno  as  there's  a  landin'  on  the  island  'ceptin'  at 
low  tide.  I  reckon  if  he's  hidin',  Jack  Crab  is 
farther  away  than  the  Thimble.  But  I  don't 
know  nothin'  about  him.  And  I  can't  accept  no 
money  for  him — that's  all  there  is  to  that." 


178    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

And  really,  that  did  seem  to  be  all  there  was  to 
it.  Even  such  a  go-ahead  sort  of  a  person  as  Mr. 
Hicks  seemed  balked  by  the  lighthouse  keepers 
attitude.  There  seemed  nothing  further  to  do 
here. 

Ruth  was  rather  interested  in  what  Mother 
Purling  had  said  about  Thimble  Island,  and  she 
lingered  to  look  at  the  conical  rock,  with  the  sea 
foaming  about  it,  when  the  others  started  down 
the  stairway.    Tom  came  back  for  her. 

"  What  are  you  dreaming  about,  Ruthie?  "  he 
demanded,  nudging  her. 

"  I  was  wondering,  Tommy,"  she  said,  "  just 
why  Jack  Crab  went  so  often  to  the  Thimble,  as 
she  says  he  does.  I'd  like  to  see  that  island 
nearer  to ;  wouldn't  you  ?  " 

"  We'll  borrow  the  catboat  and  sail  out  to  it. 
I  can  handle  the  Jennie  S.  I  bet  Helen  would  like 
to  go,"  said  Tom,  at  once. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  suppose  that  Crab  man  is  there. 
It's  just  a  barren  rock,"  said  Ruth.  "  But  I 
would  like  to  see  the  Thimble." 

"  And  you  shall,"  promised  Tom. 

But  neither  of  them  suspected  to  what  strange 
result  that  promise  tended. 


CHAPTER  XXIII 

MAROONED 

It  was  after  luncheon  before  the  three  friends 
got  away  from  the  Stone  bungalow  in  the  catboat. 
Tom  owned  a  catrigged  boat  himself  on  the  Lu- 
mano  river,  and  Helen  and  Ruth,  of  course,  were 
not  afraid  to  trust  themselves  to  his  management 
of  the  Jennie  S. 

The  party  was  pretty  well  broken  up  that  day, 
anyway.  Mercy  and  Miss  Kate  remained  at 
home  and  the  others  found  amusement  in  different 
directions.  Nobody  asked  to  go  in  the  Jennie  S., 
for  which  Ruth  was  rather  glad. 

Mr.  Hicks  had  gone  over  to  Sokennet  with  the 
avowed  intention  of  interviewing  every  soul  in 
the  town  for  news  of  Jack  Crab.  Somebody, 
surely,  must  know  where  the  assistant  lighthouse 
keeper  was,  and  the  Westerner  was  not  a  man  to 
be  put  off  by  any  ordinary  evasion. 

"  My  Jane  Ann  may  be  hiding  over  thar 
amongst  them  fishermen, "  he  declared  to  Ruth  be- 
fore he  went  away.  "  He  couldn't  have  sailed 
far  with  her  that  night,  if  he  was  back  in  'twixt 
two  and  three  hours.      No,  sir-ree !  " 

179 


igo    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

And  that  was  the  thought  in  Ruth's  mind.  Un- 
less Crab  had  sailed  out  and  put  Nita  aboard  a 
New  York,,  or  Boston,  bound  steamer,  it  seemed 
impossible  that  the  girl  could  have  gotten  very- 
far  from  Lighthouse  Point. 

"  Shall  we  take  one  of  the  rowboats  in  tow, 
Ruth?  "  queried  Tom,  before  they  left  the  Stone 
dock. 

"  No,  no !  "  returned  the  girl  of  the  Red  Mill, 
hastily.  "  We  couldn't  land  on  that  island,  any- 
way." 

"  Only  at  low  tide,"  rejoined  Tom.  "  But  it 
will  be  about  low  when  we  get  outside  the  point." 

"  You  don't  really  suspect  that  Crab  and  Nita 
are  out  there,  Ruth?"  whispered  Helen,  in  her 
chum's  ear. 

"It's  a  crazy  idea;  isn't  it?"  laughed  Ruth. 
Yet  she  was  serious  again  in  a  moment.  "  I 
thought,  when  Mother  Purling  spoke  of  his  go- 
ing there  so  much,  that  maybe  he  had  a  reason — 
a  particular  reason." 

"  Phineas  told  me  that  Jack  Crab  was  the  best 
pilot  on  this  coast,"  remarked  Tom.  "  He  knows 
every  channel,  and  shoal,  and  reef  from  West- 
hampton  to  Cape  o'  Winds.  If  there  was  a  land- 
ing at  Thimble  Island,  and  any  secret  place  upon 
it,  Jack  Crab  would  be  likely  to  know  of  it." 

"Can  you  sail  us  around  the  Thimble?  "  asked 
Ruth.    "That's  all  we  want." 


MAROONED  181 

"  I  asked  Phin  before  we  started.  The  sea  is 
clear  for  half  a  mile  and  more  all  around  the 
Thimble.  We  can  circle  it,  all  right,  if  the  wind 
holds  this  way." 

"  That's  all  I  expect  you  to  do,  Tommy,"  re- 
sponded Ruth,  quickly. 

But  they  all  three  eyed  the  conical-sTiaped  rock 
very  sharply  as  the  Jennie  S.  drew  nearer.  They 
ran  between  the  lighthouse  and  the  Thimble.  The 
tide,  in  falling,  left  the  green  and  slime-covered 
ledges  bare. 

"  A  boat  could  get  into  bad  quarters  there,  and 
easily  enough,"  said  Tom,  as  they  ran  past. 

But  when  he  tacked  and  the  catboat  swung  her 
head  seaward,  they  began  to  observe  the  far  side 
of  the  Thimble.  It  was  almost  circular,  and 
probably  all  of  a  thousand  yards  in  circumference. 
The  waves  now  ran  up  the  exposed  ledges,  hissing 
and  gurgling  among  the  cavities,  and  sometimes 
throwing  up  spume-like  geysers  between  the 
boulders. 

"  A  bad  rock  for  any  vessel  to  stub  her  toe 
against  trying  to  make  Sokennet  Harbor,"  quoth 
Tom  Cameron.  "  They  say  that  the  wreckers 
used  to  have  a  false  beacon  here  in  the  old  times. 
They  used  to  bring  a  sheep  out  here  and  tie  a 
lantern  to  its  neck.  Then,  at  low  tide,  they'd 
drive  the  poor  sheep  over  the  rocks  and  the 
bobbing  up  and  down  of  the  lantern  would  look 


182    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

like  a  riding  light  on  some  boat  at  anchor.  Then 
the  lost  vessel  would  dare  run  in  for  an  anchor- 
age, too,  and  she'd  be  wrecked.  Jack  Crab's 
grandfather  was  hanged  for  it.  So  Phineas  told 
me. 

"  How  awful!  "  gasped  Helen. 

But  Ruth  suddenly  seized  her  hand,  exclaiming: 
"See  there!  what  is  it  fluttering  on  the  rock? 
Look,  Tom!  " 

At  the  moment  the  boy  could  not  do  so,  as 
he  had  his  hands  full  with  the  tiller  and  sheet, 
and  his  eyes  were  engaged  as  well.  When  he 
turned  to  look  again  at  the  Thimble,  what  had 
startled  Ruth  had  disappeared. 

"  There  was  something  white  fluttering  against 
the  rock.  It  was  down  there,  either  below  high- 
water  mark,  or  just  above.  I  can't  imagine  what 
it  was." 

"  A  seabird,  perhaps,"  suggested  Helen. 

"Then  where  did  it  go  to  so  suddenly?  I 
did  not  see  it  fly  away,"  Ruth  returned. 

The  catboat  sailed  slowly  past  the  seaward 
side  of  the  Thimble.  There  were  fifty  places  in 
which  a  person  might  hide  upon  the  rock — plenty 
of  broken  boulders  and  cracks  in  the  base  of 
the  conical  eminence  that  formed  the  peculiarly 
shaped  island. 

The  three  watched  the  rugged  shore  very 
sharply  as  the  catboat  beat  up  the  wind — the 


MAROONED  183 

girls  especially  giving  the  Thimble  their  attention. 
A  hundred  pair  of  eyes  might  have  watched  them 
from  the  island,  as  far  as  they  knew.  But  cer- 
tainly neither  Ruth  nor  Helen  saw  anything  to 
feed  their  suspicion. 

"What  shall  we  do  now?"  demanded  Tom. 
"Where  do  you  girls  want  to  go?" 

"  I  don't  care,"  Helen  said. 

"  Seen  all  you  want  to  of  that  deserted  island, 
Ruthie?" 

"Do  you  mind  running  back  again,  Tom?" 
Ruth  asked.  "  I  haven't  any  reason  for  asking 
it — no  good  reason,  I  mean." 

"  Pshaw!  if  we  waited  for  a  reason  for  every- 
thing we  did,  some  things  would  never  be  done," 
returned  Tom,  philosophically. 

"  There  isn't  a  thing  there,"  declared  Helen. 
"  But  I  don't  care  in  the  least  where  you  sail  us, 
Tom." 

"  Only  not  to  Davy  Jones'  Locker,  Tommy," 
laughed  Ruth. 

"  I'll  run  out  a  way,  and  then  come  back  with 
the  wind  and  cross  in  front  of  the  island  again," 
said  Tom,  and  he  performed  this  feat  in  a  very 
seamanlike  manner. 

"I  declare!  there's  a  landing  we  didn't  see; 
sailing  from  the  other  direction,"  cried  Helen. 
"See  it — between  those  two  ledges?" 

"A  regular  dock;  but  you  couldn't  land  there 


184    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

at  high  tide,  or  when  there  was  any  sea  on," 
returned  her  brother. 

u  That's  the  place !  "  exclaimed  Ruth.  "  See 
that  white  thing  fluttering  again?  That's  no  sea- 
gull." 

"  Ruth  is  right,"  gasped  Helen.  "  Oh,  Tom! 
there's  something  fluttering  there — a  handker- 
chief, is  it?" 

"  Sing  out!  as  loud  as  ever  you  can!"  com- 
manded the  boy,  eagerly.     "  Hail  the  rock." 

They  all  three  raised  their  voices.  There  was 
no  answer.  But  Tom  was  pointing  the  boat's 
nose  directly  for  the  opening  between  the  sharp 
ledges. 

"  If  there  is  nobody  on  the  Thimble  now,  there 
has  been  somebody  there  recently,"  he  declared. 
"  I'm  going  to  drop  the  sail  and  run  in  there. 
Stand  by  with  the  oars  to  fend  off,  girls.  We 
don't  want  to  scratch  the  catboat  more  than  we 
can  help." 

His  sister  and  Ruth  sprang  to  obey  him.  Each 
with  an  oar  stood  at  either  rail  and  the  big 
sail  came  down  on  the  run.  But  the  Jennie  S. 
had  headway  sufficient  to  bring  her  straight  into 
the  opening  between  the  ledges. 

Tom  ran  forward,  seized  the  rope  in  the  bow, 
and  leaped  ashore,  carrying  the  coil  of  the  painter 
with  him.  Helen  and  Ruth  succeeded  in  stopping 
the  boat's  headway  with  the  oars,  and  the  craft 


MAROONED  ^5 

lay  gently  rocking  in  the  natural  dock,  without 
having  scraped  her  paint  an  atom. 

"A  fine  landing!"  exclaimed  Tom,  taking  a 
turn  or  two  with  the  rope  about  a  knob  of  rock. 

"  Yes,  indeed,"  returned  Ruth.  She  gave  a 
look  around.     "  My,  what  a  lonely  spot!" 

"  It  is  lonely,"  the  youth  answered.  "  Kind  of 
a  Robinson  Crusoe  place,"  and  he  gave  a  short 
laugh. 

"Listen!"  cried  Ruth,  and  held  up  her  hand 
as  a  warning. 

"What  did  you  hear,  Ruth?" 

"  I  thought  I  heard  somebody  talking,  or  call- 
fog." 

"You  did?"  Tom  listened  intently.  "I  don't 
hear  anything."  He  listened  again.  "Yes,  I 
do!     Where  did  it  come  from?" 

"  I  think  it  came  from  yonder,"  and  the  girl 
from  the  Red  Mill  pointed  to  a  big,  round  rock 
ahead  of  them. 

"  Maybe  it  did,  Ruth.  We'll — yes,  you  are 
right !  "  exclaimed  the  boy. 

As  he  spoke  there  was  a  scraping  sound  ahead 
of  them  and  suddenly  a  tousled  black  head  popped 
up  over  the  top  of  the  boulder  from  which  flut- 
tered the  bit  of  white  linen  that  had  first  attracted 
[Ruth's  attention. 

"Gracious  goodness!  "  gasped  Helen. 

"  It's  Nita !  "  cried  Ruth. 


186    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  Oh,  oh! "  shrilled  the  lost  girl,  flying  out  of 
concealment  and  meeting  Ruth  as  she  leaped 
ashore.  "  Is  it  really  you?  Have  you  come  for 
me?  I — I  thought  I'd  have  to  stay  here  alone 
forever.  I'd  given  up  all  hope  of  any  boat  see- 
ing me,  or  my  signal.  I — I'm  'most  dead  of  fear, 
Ruth  Fielding!  Do,  do  take  me  back  to  land 
with  you." 

The  Western  girl  was  clearly  panic-stricken. 
The  boldness  and  independence  she  had  formerly 
exhibited  were  entirely  gone.  Being  marooned 
on  this  barren  islet  had  pretty  well  sapped  the 
courage  of  Miss  Jane  Ann  Hicks. 


CHAPTER   XXIV 

PLUCKY   MOTHER    PURLING 

Tom  Cameron  audibly  chuckled;  but  he  made 
believe  to  be  busy  with  the  painter  of  the  catboat 
and  so  did  not  look  at  the  Western  girl.  The 
harum-scarum,  independent,  "rough  and  ready'* 
runaway  was  actually  on  the  verge  of  tears.  But 
— really — it  was  not  surprising. 

"  How  long  have  you  been  out  here  on  this 
rock?  "  demanded  Helen,  in  horror. 

11  Ever  since  I  left  the  bungalow." 

"Why  didn't  you  wave  your  signal  from  the 
top  of  the  rock,  so  that  it  could  be  seen  on  the 
point?"  asked  Ruth,  wonderingly. 

"  There's  no  way  to  get  to  the  top  of  the 
rock — or  around  to  the  other  side  of  it,  either," 
declared  the  runaway.  "Look  at  these  clothes! 
they  are  nearly  torn  off.     And  see  my  hands !  " 

"  Oh,  you  poor,  poor  thing!  "  exclaimed  Helen, 
seeing  how  the  castaway's  hands  were  torn. 

"  I  tried  it.  I've  shouted  myself  hoarse.  No 
boat  paid  any  attention  to  me.  They  were  all 
too  far  away,  I  suppose." 

187 


188    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  And  did  that  awful  man,  Crab,  bring  you 
here?"  cried  Ruth. 

"  Yes.  It  was  dark  when  he  landed  and 
showed  me  this  cave  in  the  rock.  There  was 
food  and  water.  Why,  I've  got  plenty  to  eat 
and  drink  even  now.  But  nobody  has  been 
here " 

"  Didn't  he  come  back?  "  queried  Tom,  at  last 
taking  part  in  the  conversation. 

"  He  rowed  out  here  once.  I  told  him  Fd 
sink  his  boat  with  a  rock  if  he  tried  to  land.  I 
was  afraid  of  him,"  declared  the  girl. 

"  But  why  did  you  come  here  with  him  that 
night?"  demanded  Ruth. 

"  'Cause  I  was  foolish.  I  didn't  know  he  was 
so  bad  then.  I  thought  he'd  really  help  me. 
He  told  me  Jennie's  aunt  had  written  to  my  un- 
cle  " 

"  Old  Bill  Hicks,"  remarked  Tom,  chuckling. 

"Yes.  I'm  Jane  Hicks.  I'm  not  Nita,"  said 
the  girl,  gulping  down  something  like  a  sob. 

"  We  read  all  about  you  in  the  paper,"  said 
Helen,  soothingly.     "  Don't  you  mind." 

"  And  your  uncle's  come,  and  he's  just  as  anx- 
ious to  see  you  as  he  can  be,"  declared  Ruth. 

"  So  they  did  send  for  him?  "  cried  Jane  Ann. 

"  No.     Crab  wrote  a  letter  to  Silver  Ranch 

himself.     He  got  you  out  here  so  as  to  be  sure 

vto  collect  live  hundred  dollars  from  your  uncle 


PLUCKY  MOTHER   PURLING  189 

before  he  gave  you  up,"  grunted  Tom.  "  Nice 
mess  of  things  you  made  by  running  off  from  us." 

"  Oh,  I'll  go  back  with  Uncle  Bill— I  will,  in- 
deed,"  said  the  girl.  "  I've  been  so  lonely  and 
scared  out  here.  Seems  to  me  every  time  the  tide 
rose,  I'd  be  drowned  in  that  cave.  The  sea's 
horrid,  I  think!     I  never  want  to  see  it  again." 

"  Well,"  Tom  observed,  "  I  guess  you  won't 
have  to  worry  about  Crab  any  more.  Get 
aboard  the  catboat.  We'll  slip  ashore  mighty 
easy  now,  and  let  him  whistle  for  you — or  the 
money.  Mr.  Hicks  won't  have  to  pay  for  get- 
ting you  back." 

"  I  expect  he's  awful  mad  at  me,"  sighed  Jane 
Ann,  alias  Nita. 

"  I  know  that  he  is  awfully  anxious  to  get  you 
back  again,  my  dear,"  said  Ruth.  "  He  is  alto- 
gether too  good  a  man  for  you  to  run  away 
from." 

"  Don't  you  suppose  I  know  that,  Miss?" 
snapped  the  girl  from  the  ranch. 

They  embarked  in  the  catboat  and  Tom  showed 
his  seamanship  to  good  advantage  when  he  got 
the  Jennie  S.  out  of  that  dock  without  rubbing 
her  paint.  But  the  wind  was  very  light  and  they 
had  to  run  down  with  it  past  the  island  and  then 
beat  up  between  the  Thimble  and  the  lighthouse, 
toward  the  entrance  to  Sokennet  Harbor. 

Indeed,  the  breeze  fell  so  at  times  that  the 


£190    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

catboat  made  no  headway.  In  one  of  these  calms 
Helen  sighted  a  rowboat  some  distance  away, 
but  pulling  toward  them  from  among  the  little 
chain  of  islands  beyond  the  reef  on  which  the 
lumber  schooner  had  been  wrecked. 

"Here's  a  fisherman  coming,"  she  said.  "  Do 
you  suppose  he'd  take  us  ashore  in  his  boat,  Tom? 
We  could  walk  home  from  the  light.  It's  grow- 
ing late  and  Miss  Kate  will  be  worried." 

"  Why,  Sis,  I  can  scull  this  old  tub  to  the  land- 
ing below  the  lighthouse  yonder.  We  don't  need 
to  borrow  a  boat.  Then  Phineas  can  come 
around  in  the  Miraflame  to-morrow  morning  and 
tow  the  catboat  home." 

But  Jane  Ann  had  leaped  up  at  once  to  eye 
the  coming  rowboat — and  not  with  favor. 

"  That  looks  like  the  boat  that  Crab  came 
out  to  the  Thimble  in,"  she  exclaimed.  "Why! 
it  is  him." 

"  Jack  Crab ! "  exclaimed  Helen,  in  terror. 
"  He's  after  you,  then." 

"  Well,  he  won't  get  her,"  declared  Tom, 
boldly. 

"What  can  we  do  against  that  man?"  de- 
manded Ruth,  anxiously.  "  I'm  afraid  of  him 
myself.     Let's  try  to  get  ashore." 

"And  before  he  catches  us,"  begged  Helen. 
"Do,  Tom!" 

There  was  no  hope  of  the  wind  helping  them, 


PLUCKY   MOTHER   PURLING  igt 

and  the  man  in  the  rowboat  was  pulling  strongly 
for  the  becalmed  Jennie  S.  Tom  instantly 
dropped  her  sail  and  seized  one  of  the  oars.  He 
could  scull  pretty  well,  and  he  forced  the  heavy 
boat  through  the  quiet  sea  directly  for  the  light- 
house landing. 

The  three  girls  were  really  much  disturbed; 
Crab  pulled  his  lighter  boat  much  faster  than 
Tom  could  drive  the  Jennie  S.  and  it  was  a  ques- 
tion if  he  would  not  overtake  her  before  she 
reached  the  landing. 

"  He  sees  me,"  said  Jane  Hicks,  excitedly. 
"He'll  get  hold  of  me  if  he  can.  And  maybe 
he'll  hurt  you  folks." 

"  He's  got  to  catch  us  first,"  grunted  Tom, 
straining  at  the  oar. 

"We're  going  to  beat  him,  Tommy!"  cried 
Helen,  encouragingly.     "  Don't  give  up  !  " 

Once  Crab  looked  around  and  bawled  some 
threat  to  them  over  his  shoulder.  But  they  did 
not  reply.  His  voice  inspired  Tom  with  renewed 
strength — or  seemed  to.  The  boy  strained  at 
his  single  oar,  and  the  Jennie  S.  moved  landward 
at  a  good,  stiff  pace. 

"Stand  ready  with  the  painter,  Ruth!  "  called 
Tom,  at  last.  "  We  must  fasten  the  boat  before 
we  run." 

"And  where  will  we  run  to?"  demanded 
Helen. 


192    RUTH   FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  To  the  light,  of  course,"  returned  her  chum. 

"Give  me  the  hitch-rein!"  cried  Jane  Ann 
Hicks,  snatching  the  coil  of  line  from  Ruth's 
hand,  and  the  next  moment  she  leaped  from  the 
deck  of  the  catboat  to  the  wharf. 

The  distance  was  seven  or  eight  feet,  but  she 
cleared  it  and  landed  on  the  stringpiece.  She 
threw  the  line  around  one  of  the  piles  and  made 
a  knot  with  a  dexterity  that  would  have  surprised 
her  companions  at  another  time. 

But  there  was  no  opportunity  then  for  Tom, 
Helen  and  Ruth  to  stop  to  notice  it.  All  three 
got  ashore  the  moment  the  catboat  bumped,  and 
they  left  her  where  she  was  and  followed  the 
flying  Western  girl  up  the  wharf  and  over  the 
stretches  of  sand  towards  the  lightkeeper's  cot- 
tage. 

Before  their  feet  were  off  the  planks  of  the 
wharf  Jack  Crab's  boat  collided  with  the  Jennie 
S.  and  the  man  scrambled  upon  her  deck,  and 
across  it  to  the  wharf.  He  left  his  own  dory  to 
go  ashore  if  it  would,  and  set  out  to  catch  the 
girl  who — he  considered — was  worth  five  hun- 
dred dollars  to  him. 

But  Jane  Ann  and  her  friends  whisked  into 
the  little  white  house  at  the  foot  of  the  light 
shaft,  and  slammed  the  door  before  Crab  reached 
it. 

"  For  the  Land  of  Goshen !  "  cried  the  old 


PLUCKY  MOTHER  PURUNG  193 

lady,  who  was  sitting  knitting  in  her  tiny  sitting- 
room.      "What's  the  meaning  cf  this?" 

"It's  Crab!  It's  Jack  Crab!"  cried  Helen, 
almost  in  hysterics.     "  He's  after  us!  " 

Tom  had  bolted  the  door.  Now  Crab  thun- 
dered upon  it,  with  both  feet  and  fists. 

"Let  me  in!"  he  roared  from  outside. 
"  Mother  Purling!  you  let  me  git  that  gal!  " 

"What  does  this  mean?"  repeated  the  light- 
house keeper,  sternly.  "  Ain't  this  the  gal  that 
big  man  was  after  this  morning?"  she  demanded, 
pointing  at  Jane  Ann. 

"  Yes,  Mrs.  Purling — it  is  Jane  Hicks.  And 
this  dreadful  Crab  man  has  kept  her  out  on  the 
Thimble  all  this  time — alone!"  cried  Ruth. 
"Think  of  it!  Now  he  has  chased  us  in 
here——" 

"  I'll  fix  that  Jack  Crab,"  declared  the  plucky 
old  woman,  advancing  toward  the  door.  "Hi, 
you,  Jack!  go  away  from  there." 

"  You  open  this  door,  Mother  Purling,  if  you 
knows  what's  best  for  you,"  commanded  the 
sailor. 

"  You  better  git  away  from  that  door,  if  you 
knows  what's  best  for  you,  Jack  Crab !  "  retorted 
the  old  woman.     "  I  don't  fear  ye." 

"  I  see  that  man  here  this  morning.  Did  he 
leave  aught  for  me?"  cried  Crab,  after  a  mo- 
ment.    "  If  he  left  the  five  hundred  dollars  he 


194    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

promised  to  give  for  the  gal,  he  can  have  her* 
Give  me  the  money,  and  I'll  go  my  ways." 

11 1  ain't  no  go-between  for  a  scoundrel  such 
as  you,  Jack  Crab,"  declared  the  lighthouse- 
keeper.     "  There's  no  money  here  for  ye." 

"  Then  111  have  the  gal  if  I  tear  the  lighthouse 
down  for  it — stone  by  stone !  "  roared  the  fellow. 

"  And  it's  your  kind  that  always  blows  before 
they  breeches,"  declared  Mother  Purling,  refer- 
ring to  the  habit  of  the  whale,  which  spouts 
before  it  upends  and  dives  out  of  sight.  "Go 
away!  " 

"  I  won't  go  away!  " 

"  Yes,  ye  will,  an'  quick,  too !  " 

"Old  woman,  ye  don't  know  me!"  stormed 
the  unreasonable  man.  "  I  want  that  money,  an' 
I'm  bound  to  have  it — one  way  or  th'  other !  " 

"You'll  get  nuthin',  Jack  Crab,  but  a  broken 
head  if  ye  keep  on  in  this  fashion,"  returned  the 
woman  of  the  lighthouse,  her  honest  wrath  grow- 
ing greater  every  moment. 

"We'll  see  about  that!"  howled  the  man. 
"Are  ye  goin'  to  let  me  in  or  not?" 

"No,  I  tell  ye!     Go  away!" 

"Then  I'll  bust  my  way  in,  see  ef  I  don't!  " 

At  that  the  fellow  threw  himself  against  the 
door,  and  the  screws  of  one  hinge  began  to  tear 
out  of  the  woodwork.  Mother  Purling  saw  it, 
and  motioned  the  frightened  girls  and  Tom  to- 


PLUCKY   MOTHER   PURLING  195 

ward  the  stairway  which  led  to  the  gallery  around 
the  lantern. 

"Go  up  yon!"  she  commanded.  "Shut  and 
lock  that  door  on  ye.  He'll  not  durst  set  foot  on 
government  property,  and  that's  what  the  light  is. 
Go  up." 

She  shooed  them  all  into  the  stairway  and 
slammed  the  door.  There  she  stood  with  her 
back  against  it,  whrie,  at  the  next  blow,  Jack 
Crab  forced  the  outer  door  of  her  cottage  inward 
and  fell  sprawling  across  its  wreck  into  the  room. 


CHAPTER  XXV 

WHAT  JANE  ANN  WANTED 

Ruth  and  her  companions  could  not  see  what 
went  on  in  the  cottage ;  but  they  did  not  mount  the 
stairs.  They  could  not  leave  the  old  woman- 
plucky  as  she  was — to  fight  Jack  Crab  alone. 

But  they  need  not  have  been  so  fearful  for 
Mother  Purling's  safety.  The  instant  the  man 
fell  into  the  main  room  of  the  cottage,  Mother 
Purling  darted  to  the  stove,  seized  the  heavy 
poker  which  lay  upon  the  hearth,  and  sprang  for 
the  rascal. 

Jack  Crab  had  got  upon  his  knees,  threatening 
her  with  dire  vengeance.  The  old  lighthouse 
keeper  never  said  a  word  in  reply,  but  brought 
the  heavy  poker  down  upon  his  head  and  shoul- 
ders with  right  good  will,  and  Jack  Crab's  tune 
changed  on  the  instant. 

Again  and  again  Mother  Purling  struck  him. 
He  rolled  upon  the  floor,  trying  to  extricate  him- 
self from  the  wreck  of  her  door,  and  so  escape. 

But  before  he  could  do  this,  and  before  the 
old  woman  had  ceased  her  attack,  there  was  a 
shout  outside,  a  horse  was  brought  to  an  abrupt 

196 


WHAT  JANE  ANN  WANTED  197 

halt  at  the  gate,  and  a  huge  figure  in  black  flung 
itself  'from  the  saddle,  and  came  running  through 
the  gate  and  up  to  the  cottage. 

"What  you  got  there,  Missus ?"  roared  the 

deep  voice  of  Bill  Hicks,  of  Bullhide,  and  at  the 

!  sound  of  his  voice  Jane  Ann  burst  open  the  door 

at  the  foot  of  the  stairs  and  ran  out  to  meet 

him. 

"  This  here's  the  man  you  want  to  meet,  I 
guess,"  panted  the  old  woman,  desisting  at  length 
in  her  use  of  the  poker.  "  Do  ye  want  him  now, 
Mister?" 

"  Uncle  Bill!  "  shrieked  Jane  Ann. 

"Great  cats!"  cried  the  cattleman.  "Is  it 
Jane  Ann  herself?     Is  she  alive?  " 

The  girl  flung  herself  into  the  big  man's  arms. 
"  I'm  all  right,  Uncle ! "  she  cried,  laughing  and 
crying  together.  "And  that  man  yonder  didn't 
hurt  me — only  kep'  me  on  a  desert  island  till 
Ruth  and  Tom  and  Helen  found  me." 

"  Then  he  kin  go !  "  declared  Bill  Hicks,  turn- 
ing suddenly  as  Crab  started  through  the  door. 
"  And  here's  what  will  help  him !  " 

The  Westerner  swung  his  heavy  boot  with  the 
best  intention  in  the  world  and  caught  Jack  Crab 
just  as  he  was  going  down  the  step.  With  a  yell 
of  pain  the  felJow  sailed  through  the  air,  land- 
ing at  least  ten  feet  from  the  doorway.  Bat  kt 
was  up  from  his  hands  and  knees  and  runmng 


198    RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

hard  in  an  instant,  and  he  ran  so  hard,  and  to 
such  good  purpose,  that  he  ran  right  out  of  this 
story  then  and  there.  Ruth  Fielding  and  her 
friends  never  saw  the  treacherous  fellow  again. 

"  But  if  he'd  acted  like  he  oughter,"  said  Mr. 
Hicks,  "  and  hadn't  put  my  Jane  Ann  out  on  that 
thar  lonesome  rock,  and  treated  her  the  way  he 
done,  I  should  have  considered  myself  in  his  debt. 
I'd  have  paid  him  the  five  hundred  dollars,  sure 
enough.  I'd  have  paid  it  over  willingly  if  he'd 
left  my  gal  with  these  nice  people  and  only  told 
me  whar  she  was.  But  I  wouldn't  give  him  a  cent 
now — not  even  if  he  was  starvin'.  For  if  I  found 
him  in  that  condition  I'd  see  he  got  food  and  not 
money,"  and  the  big  man  chuckled. 

"  So  you  haven't  got  to  pay  five  hundred  dol- 
lars for  me,  then,  Uncle  Bill?  "  said  his  niece,  as 
they  sat  on  the  porch  of  the  Stones'  bungalow, 
talking  things  over. 

"  No,  I  haven't.  No  fault  of  yours,  though, 
you  little  rascal.  I  dunno  but  I  ought  to  divide 
it  'twixt  them  three  friends  of  yourn  that  found 
ye." 

"Not  for  us!"  cried  Tom  and  Helen. 

"  Nor  for  me,"  said  Ruth,  earnestly.  "  It 
would  not  be  right.  I  never  should  respect  my- 
self again  if  I  thought  I  had  tried  to  find  Nita 
for  money." 

"  But  if  it  hadn't  been  for  Ruth  we'd  never 


WHAT  JANE  ANN  WANTED  199 

have  sailed  over  there  to  the  Thimble,"  declared 
Tom. 

The  Western  girl  had  been  thinking  seriously; 
now  she  seized  her  uncle  by  the  arm.  "I  tell 
you  what  I  want,  Uncle  Bill!  "  she  cried. 

"  Something  beside  the  pianner  and  the  shift-on 
hat?"  he  grumbled,  but  his  blue  eyes  twinkled. 

11  Those  things  don't  count,"  she  declared 
earnestly.  "  But  this  five  hundred  dollars,  Uncle 
Bill,  you  haven't  got  to  pay  that  Crab  man.  So 
you  just  spend  it  by  taking  all  these  girls  and  boys 
that  have  been  so  nice  to  me  out  to  Silver  Ranch. 
They  think  it  must  be  the  finest  place  that  ever 
happened — and  I  don't  know  but  'tis,  Uncle,  if 
you  don't  have  too  much  of  it,"  she  added. 

11  Great  cats!  that  would  shore  be  some  doin's; 
wouldn't  it?"  exclaimed  the  cattleman,  grinning 
broadly. 

"You  bet  it  would!  We'll  take  Ruth  and 
Helen  and  Tom  and  Heavy  an — why,  every 
last  one  of  'em  that'll  go.  We'll  show  'em  a  right 
good  time;  is  it  a  go,  Uncle  Bill?  " 

And  it  certainly  was  "  a  go,"  for  we  shall  meet 
Ruth  and  her  friends  next  in  a  volume  entitled, 
"Ruth  Fielding  at  Silver  Ranch;  Or,  Schoolgirls 
Among  the  Cowboys." 

Old  Bill  Hicks'  hearty  invitation  could  not  be 
accepted,  however,  until  the  various  young  folks 
had  written  home  to  their  parents  and  guardians 


200     RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

about  it.  And  the  expectation  of  what  fun  they 
could  have  on  Silver  Ranch  did  not  spoil  the 
fun  to  be  found  cltfser  at  hand,  at  Light- 
house Point. 

The  remainder  of  that  fortnight  at  the  bunga- 
low would  long  be  remembered  by  Ruth  and  her 
girl  friends,  especially.  Mr.  Hicks  got  board  at 
Sokennet;  but  Jane  Ann  (although  they  all  called 
her  "  Nita  "  save  The  Fox,  who  took  some  de- 
light in  teasing  her  about  her  ugly  name)  re- 
mained at  the  bungalow.  The  cattleman  could 
not  do  too  much  for  anybody  who  had  been  kind 
to  his  niece,  and  had  the  life  saving  men  not  re- 
fused absolutely  to  accept  anything  from  him, 
he  would  have  made  them  all  a  present  because 
they  had  rescued  Jane  Ann  from  the  wreck  of  the 
Whipstitch. 

Nevertheless,  Mr.  Hicks  found  out  something 
that  he  could  do  for  the  life-savers,  and  he  pre- 
sented the  station  with  a  fine  library — something 
which  all  the  surfmen,  and  Cap'n  Abinadab  as  well, 
could  enjoy  during  the  long  winter  days  and  even- 
ings. Nor  did  the  ranchman  forget  Mother  Pur- 
ling at  the  lighthouse.  Up  from  New  York  came 
the  finest  black  silk  dress  and  bonnet  that  the 
big  man  could  buy  for  money  in  any  shop,  and  no 
present  could  have  so  delighted  the  plucky  old 
lighthouse  keeper.  She  had  longed,  she  said,  for 
a  black  silk  dress  all  her  life. 


WHAT  JANE  ANN   Vv  ANTED  20 1 

Before  the  young  folks  departed  from  Light- 
house Point,  too,  Miss  Kate  invited  the  life 
savers,  and  Mother  Purling,  and  Phineas  and 
some  of  the  other  longshoremen  and  their  wives 
to  a  "  party  "  at  the  bungalow.  And  there  were 
good  things  to  eat  (Heavy  saw  to  that,  of  course) 
and  a  moving-picture  entertainment  brought  down 
from  the  city  for  that  evening,  and  a  big  display 
of  fireworks  afterward  on  the  shore. 

This  wound  up  Ruth  Fielding's  visit  to  Light- 
house Point.  The  fortnight  of  fun  was  ended 
all  too  soon.  She  and  Helen  and  Tom,  and  the 
rest  of  the  visitors,  started  for  home,  all  promis- 
ing, if  their  parents  and  guardians  agreed,  to 
meet  Jane  Ann  Hicks  and  her  uncle  a  week  later, 
in  Syracuse,  ready  for  the  long  and  delightful 
journey  across  the  continent  to  Bullhide,  Mon- 
tana. 

"  Well,  we  certainly  did  have  some  great 
times,"  was  Tom's  comment,  after  the  last  good- 
byes had  been  spoken  and  the  young  folks  were 
homeward  bound. 

"  Oh,  it  was  lovely,"  answered  his  twin  sister. 
"  And  think  of  how  we  helped  Nita — I  mean 
Jane  Ann." 

"  Most  of  the  credit  for  that  goes  to  Ruth," 
said  Tom. 

"  Oh,  no !  "  cried  the  girl  from  the  Red  Mill. 
"Yes,  we  certainly  had  a  grand  time,"  she  added. 


202     RUTH  FIELDING  AT  LIGHTHOUSE  POINT 

"  I  love  the  bounding  sea,  and  the  shifting  sands, 
and  the  lighthouse,  and  all !  " 

"  Oh,  I  do  hope  we  can  go  out  to  that  ranch! " 
sighed  Helen.  "  I  have  always  wanted  to  visit 
such  a  place,  to  see  the  cattle  and  the  cowboys, 
and  the  boundless  prairies." 

"  And  I  want  to  ride  a  broncho,"  put  in  her 
brother.  "They  say  some  of  'em  can  go  like 
the  wind.     Ruth,  you'll  have  to  ride,  too." 

11  Take  your  last  look  at  the  sea !  "  came  from 
Heavy.  "  Maybe  we  won't  get  another  look  at 
it  for  a  long  time." 

All  turned  to  look  at  the  rolling  waves,  glis- 
tening brightly  in  the  Summer  sun. 

"  Isn't  it  lovely!" 

"  Good-bye,  Old  Ocean,  good-bye !  "  sang  out 
Helen. 

Ruth  threw  a  kiss  to  the  waves. 

Then  the  ocean  faded  from  their  sight.  And 
here  we  will  leave  Ruth  Fielding  and  say  good- 
bye. 


THE  END 


THE  RUTH  FIELDING  SERIES 


By  ALICE   B.  EMERSON 


12tno. 


Illustrated.     Price  per  volume,  65  cents,  postpaid 

RUTH  FIELDING  OF  THE  RED  MILL 

or  Jasper  Parole's  Secr-et 
RUTH  FIELDING  AT  BRIARWOODHALL 

or  Solving  the  Campus  Mystery 
RUTH  FIELDING  AT  SNOW  CAMP 

or  Lost  in  the  Backwoods 
RUTH     FIELDING     AT     LBGHTHOUSE 

POINT         or  Nita,  the  Girl  Castaway 
RUTH  FIELDING  AT  SILVER  RANCH 

or  Schoolgirls  Among  the  Cowboys 
RUTH  FIELDING  ON  CLIFF  ISLAND 

or  The  Old  Hunter's  Treasure  Box 
RUTH  FIELDING  AT  SUNRISE  FARM 

or  What  Became  of  the  Raby  Orphans 
RUTH  FIELDING  AND  THE  GYPSIES 

or  The  Missing  Pearl  Necklace 
RUTH  FIELDING  UN  MOVING  PICTURES 

or  Helping  the  Dormitory  Fund 
RUTH  FIELDING  DOWN  IN  DIXIE 

or  Great  Days  in  the  Land  of  Cotton 
RUTH  FIELDING  AT  COLLEGE 

or  The  Missing  Examination  Papers 
RUTH  FIELDING  IN  THE  SADDLE 

or  College  Girls  in  the  Land  of  Gold 
RUTH  FZELD1MQ  IN  THE  RED  C&OSS 

or  Doing  Her  Bit  for   Uncle  Sam 
RUTH  FIELDING  AT  THE  WAR  FRONT 

or  The  Hunt  for  a  Lost  Soldier 
RUTH  FIELDING  HOMEWARD  BOUND 

or  A  Red  Cross  Worker's  Ocean  Perils 
RUTH  FIELDING  DOWN  EAST 

or  The  Hermit  of  Beach  Plum  Point 
RUTH  FIELDING  IN  THE  GREAT  NORTHWEST 

or  The  Indian  Girl  Star  of  the  Movies 
RUTH  FIELDING  ON  THE  ST.  LAWRENCE 

or  The  Queer  Old  Man  of  the  Thousand  Islands 
RUTH  FSELBSMG  TREASURE  HUNTING 

or  A  Moving  Picture  that  Became  Real 
RUTH  FBELOING  IN  THE  FAR  NORTH 

or  The  Lost  Motion  Picture  Company 
RUTH  FIELDING  AT  GOLDEN  PASS 

or  The  Perils  of  an  Artificial  Avalanche 


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THE  BETTY  GORDON  SERIES 


By  ALICE  B.  EMERSON 

Author  of  the  Famous  "Ruth  Fielding"  Series 

12mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.    Jacket  in  full  colors 
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BRAMBLEkfARM. 


RUTH  FELMNG 


A  series  of  stories  by  Alice  B.  Emerson  which 
are  bound  to  make  this  writer  more  popular 
than  ever  with  her  host  of  girl  readers. 

1.  BETTY    GORDON     AT     BRAMBLE 
FARM  or  The  Mystery  of  a  Nobody 

At  the  age  of  twelve  Betty  is  left  an 
orphan. 

2.  BETTY  GORDON  IN  WASHINGTON 

or  Strange  Adventures  in  a  Great  City 
In  this  volume  Betty  goes  to  the  National 
Capitol  to   find   her   uncle  and   has  several 
unusual  adventures. 

3.  BETTY  GORDON  IN  THE  LAND  OF  OIL 

or  The  Farm  That  Was  Worth  a  Fortune 
From  Washington  the  scene  is  shifted  to  the  great  oil  fields  of 
our  country.  A  splendid  picture  of  the  oil  field  operations  of  today. 

4.  BETTY  GORDON  AT  BOARDING  SCHOOL 

or  The  Treasure  of  Indian  Chasm 
Seeking  the  treasure  of  Indian  Chasm  makes  an  exceedingly  inter- 
esting incident. 

5.  BETTY  GORDON  AT  MOUNTAIN  CAMP 

or  The  Mystery  of  Ida  Bellethorne 
At  Mountain  Camp  Betty  found  herself  in  the  midst  of  a  mystery 
involving  a  girl  whom  she  had  previously  met  in  Washington. 

6.  BETTY  GORDON  AT  OCEAN  PARK 

or  School  Chums  on  the  Boardwalk 
A  glorious  outing  that  Betty  and  her  chums  never  forgot. 

7.  BETTY  GORDON  AND  HER  SCHOOL  CHUMS 

or  Bringing  the  Rebels  to  Terms 
Rebellious  students,  disliked  teachers  and  mysterious  robberies 
make  a  fascinating  story. 

8.  BETTY  GORDON  AT  RAINBOW  RANCH 

or  Cowboy  Joe's  Secret 
Betty  and  her  chums  have  a  grand  time  in  the  saddle. 

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TfoUNGER'NOTS 

and  the 

MYSTERY  HOUSE 


THE  LINGER-NOT  SERIES 

By   AGNES    MILLER 

\2mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.     Jacket  in  full  colors 
Price  per  volume,  65  cents,  postpaid 

This  new  series  of  girls1  books  is  in  a  new 
style  of  story  writing.  The  interest  is  in  knowing 
the  girls  and  seeing  them  solve  the  problems 
that  develop  their  character.  Incidentally,  a 
great  deal  of  historical  information  is  imparted. 

1.     THE   LINGER-NOTS  AND  THE 
MYSTERY  HOUSE 

or  The  Story  of  Nine  Adventurous 
Girls 
How  the  Linger- Not  girls  met  and  formed 
their  club  seems  commonplace,  but  this 
writer  makes  it  fascinating,  and  how  they 
made  their  club  serve  a  great  purpose  con- 
tinues the  interest  to  the  end,  and  introduces 
a  new  type  of  girlhood. 

2.  THE  LINGER-NOTS  AND  THE  VALLEY  FEU3 

or  The  Great  West  Point  Chain 

The  Linger- Not  girls  had  no  thought  of  becoming  mixed  up  with 
feuds  or  mysteries,  but  their  habit  of  being  useful  soon  entangled 
them  in  some  surprising  adventures  that  turned  out  happily  for  all, 
and  made  the  valley  better  because  of  their  visit. 

3.  THE  LINGER-NOTS  AND  THEIR  GOLDEN  QUEST 

or  Tlie  Log  of  the  Ocean  Monarch 

For  a  club  of  girls  to  become  involved  in  a  mystery  leading  back 
into  the  times  of  the  California  gold-rush,  seems  unnatural  until  the 
reader  sees  how  it  happened,  and  how  the  girls  helped  one  of  their 
friends  to  come  into  her  rightful  name  and  inheritance,  forms  a  fine 
story. 

4.  THE    LINGER-NOTS    AND    THE    WHISPERING 

CHARMS 

or  The  Secret  from  Old  Alaska 

Whether  engrossed  in  thrilling  adventures  in  the  Far  North  or 
occupied  with  quiet  home  duties,  the  Linger- Not  girls  could  work 
unitedly  to  solve  a  colorful  mystery  in  a  way  that  interpreted 
American  freedom  to  a  sad  young  stranger,  and  brought  happiness 
to  her  and  to  themselves. 

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THE  RADIO  GIRLS  SERIES 


By  MARGARET   PENROSE 

12mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.    J&cket  in  full  colors 

Price  per  volume,  65  cents,  postpaid 


A  new  and  up-to-date  series,  taking  in  the 
activities  of  several  bright  girls  who  become- 
interested  in  radio.  The  stories  tell  of  thrilling 
exploits,  out-door  life  and  the  great  part  the 
Radio  plays  in  the  adventures  of  the  girls  and 
in  solving  their  mysteries.  Fascinating  books 
that  girls  of  all  ages  will  want  to  read. 


1.  TOE  RADIO  GBRLS  OF  ROSELAWN 

or  A  Strange  Message  from  the  Air 
Showing  how#  Jessie  Norwood  and  her 
chums  became  interested  in  radiophoning, 
how  they  gave  a  concert  for  a  worthy  local 
charity,  and  how  they  received  a  sudden  and 
unexpected  call  for  help  out  of  the  air.  A  girl  wanted  as  witness  in  a 
celebrated  law  case  disappears,  and  the  radio  girls  go  to  the  rescue. 

2.  THE  RADIO  GIRLS  ON  THE  PROGRAM 

or  Singing  and  Reciting  at  the  Sending  Station 
When  listening  in  on  a  thrilling  recitationor  a  superb  concert 
number  who  of  us  has  not  longed  to  "look  behind  the  scenes"  to  see 
how  it  was  done?  The  girls  had  made  the  acquaintance  of  a  sending 
station  manager  and  in  this  volume  are  permitted  to  get  on  the  pro- 
gram, much  to  their  delight.  A  tale  full  of  action  and  fun. 

3.  THE  RADIO  GIRLS  ON  STATION  ISLAND 

or  Tlie  Wireless  from  the  Steam  Yacht 
In  this  volume  the  girls  travel  to  the  seashore  and  put  in  a  vacation 
«ra  an  island  where  is  located  a  big  radio  sending  station.  The  big 
brother  of  one  of  the  girls  owns  a  steam  yacht  and  while  out  with  a 
pleasure  party  those  on  the  island  receive  word  by  radio  that  the 
yacht  is  on  fire.  A  tale  thrilling  to  the  last  page. 

4.  THE  RADIO  GIRLS  AT  FOREST  LODGE 

or  The  Strange  Hut  in  the  Swamp 
The  Radio  Girls  spend  several  weeks  on  the  shores  of  a  beautiful 
lake  and  with  their  radio  get  news  of  a  great  forest  fire.  It  also  aids 
them  in  rounding  up  some  undesirable  folks  who  occupy  the  strange 
hut  in  the  swamp. 

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BILLIE  BRADLEY  SERIES 

By  JANET   P.  WHEELER 

12mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.     Jacket  in  full  colors 
Price  per  v&lume,  65  cents,  postpaid 


BilUe.  Bradley 
Twin  Lakes 


Janet  O  l^'heeler 


1.     BILLIE  BRADLEY  AND  HER 
INHERITANCE 

or  The  Queer  Homestead  at  Cherry  Corners 

Billie  Bradley  fell  heir  to  an  old  homestead 
that  was  unoccupied  and  located  far  away  in 
a  lonely  section  of  the  country.  How  Billie 
went  there,  accompanied  by  some  of  her 
chums,  and  what  queer  things  happened,  go 
to  make  up  a  story  no  girl  will  want  to  miss. 


2.  BILLIE  BRADLEY  AT  THREE-TOWERS  HALL 

or  Leading  a  Needed  Rebellion 
Three-Towers  Hall  was  a  boarding  school  for  girls.  For  a  short 
time  after  Billie  arrived  there  all  went  well.  But  then  the  head  of 
the  school  had  to  go  on  a  long  journey  and  she  left  the  girls  in  charge 
of  two  teachers,  sisters,  who  believed  in  severe  discipline  and  in  very, 
very  plain  food  and  little  of  it — and  then  there  was  a  row!  The  girls 
wired  for  the  head  to  come  back — and  all  ended  happily. 

3.  BILLIE  BRADLEY  ON  LIGHTHOUSE  ISLAND 

or  The  Mystery  of  the  Wreck 
One  of  Billie's  friends  owned  a  summer  bungalow  on  Lighthouse 
Island,  near  the  coast.  The  school  girls  made  up  a  party  and  visited 
the  Island.  There  was  a  storm  and  a  wreck,  and  three  little  children 
were  washed  ashore.  They  could  tell  nothing  of  themselves,  and 
Billie  and  her  chums  set  to  work  to  solve  the  mystery  of  their 
identity. 

4.  BILLIE  BRADLEY  AND  HER  CLASSMATES 

or  The  Secret  of  the  Locked  Tower 
Billie  and  her  chums  come  to  the  rescue  of  several  little  children 
who  have  broken  through  the  ice.     There  is  the  mystery  of  a  lost 
invention,  and  also  the  dreaded  mystery  of  the  locked  school  tower. 

5.  BELLSE  BRADLEY  AT  TWIN  LAKES 

or  Jolly  Schoolgirls  Afloat  and  A  shore 
A  tale  of  outdoor  adventure  in  which  Billie  and  her  chums  have  a 
great  variety  of  adventures.  They  visit  an  artists'  colony  and  there 
fall  in  with  a  strange  girl  living  with  an  old  boatman  who  abuses  her 
constantly.  Billie  befriended  Hulda  and  the  mystery  surrounding 
the  girl  was  finally  cleared  up. 

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THE  GIRL  SCOUT  SERIES 


By  LILIAN   GARIS 


12mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.    Jacket  in  full  colors 
Price  per  volume,  65  cents,  postpaid 

The  highest  ideals  of  girlhood  as  advocated 
by  the  foremost  organizations  of  America 
form  the  background  for  these  stories  and  while 
unobtrusive  there  is  a  message  in  every  volume, 

1.  \  THE  GBRL  SCOUT  PIONEERS 

or  Winning  the  First  B.  C. 
A  3tory  of  the  True  Tred  Troop  in  a  Penn- 
sylvania town.  Two  runaway  girls,  who 
want  to  see  the  city,  are  reclaimed  through 
troop  influence.  The  story  is  correct  in  scout 
detail. 

2.  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS  AT  BELLAS  RE 

or  Maid  Mary's  Awakening 
The  story  of  a  timid  little  maid  who  is  afraid  to  take  part  in 
other  girls'  activities,  while  working  nobly  alone  for  high  ideals. 
How  she  was  discovered  by  the  Bellaire  Troop  and  came  into  her 
own  as  "Maid  Mary"  makes  a  fascinating  story. 

3.  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS  AT  SEA  CREST 

or  The  Wig  Wag  Rescue 
Luna  Land,  a  little  island  by  the  sea,  is  wrapt  in  a  mysterious 
seclusion,  and  Kitty  Scuttle,  a  grotesque  figure,  succeeds  in  keeping 
all  others  at  bay  until  the  Girl  Scouts  come . 

4.  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS  AT  CAMP  COMALONG 

or  Peg  of  Tamarack  Hills 
The  girls  of  Bobolink  Troop  spend  their  summer  on  the  shores  of 
Lake  Hocomo.    Their  discovery  of  Peg,  the  mysterious  rider,  and 
the  clearing  up  of  her  remarkable  adventures  afford  a  vigorous  plot. 

5.  THE  GIRL  SCOUTS  AT  ROCKY  LEDGE 

or  Nora's  Real  Vacation 
Nora  Blair  is  the  pampered  daughter  of  a  frivolous  mother.    Hef 
dislike  for  the  rugged  life  of  Girl  Scouts  is  eventually  changed  to 
appreciation,  when  the  rescue  of  little  Lucia,  a  woodland  waif, 
becomes  a  problem  for  the  girls  to  solve. 

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FOUR  LITTLE  BLOSSOM  SERIES 


By  MABEL  C.  HAWLEY 

12mo.     Cloth.     Illustrated.     Jacket  in  full  colors 

Price  per  volume,  65  cents,  postpaid 


FOUR 
LITTLE  BLOSSOMS 


ThroughTheHolidays 


Mabel  C.Hawley 


1.    FOUR  LITTLE  BLOSSOMS  AT 
BROOKSIDE  FARM 

Mother  called  them  her  Four  Little  Blos- 
soms, but  Daddy  Blossom  called  them  Bobby, 
Meg,  and  the  twins.  The  twins,  Twaddles 
and  Dot,  were  a  comical  pair  and  always 
getting  into  mischief.  The  children  had 
heaps  of  fun  around  the  big  farm. 


2.  FOUR  LITTLE  BLOSSOMS  AT  OAK  HILL  SCHOOL 

In  the  Fall,  Bobby  and  Meg  had  to  go  to  school.  It  was  good  fun, 
for  Miss  Mason  was  a  kind  teacher.  Then  the  twins  insisted  on 
going  to  school,  too,  and  their  appearance  quite  upset  the  class. 
In  school  something  very  odd  happened. 

3.  FOUR  LITTLE  BLOSSOMS  AND  THEIR  WINTER  FUN 

Winter  came  and  with  it  lots  of  ice  and  snow,  and  oh!  what  fun 
the  Blossoms  had  skating  and  sledding.  And  once  Bobby  and  Meg 
went  on  an  errand  and  got  lost  in  a  sudden  snowstorm. 

4.  FOUR  LITTLE  BLOSSOMS  ON  APPLE  TREE  ISLAND 

The  Four  Little  Blossoms  went  to  a  beautiful  island  in  the  middle 
of  a  big  lake  and  there  had  a  grand  time  on  the  water  and  in  the 
woods.  And  in  a  deserted  cabin  they  found  some  letters  which  helped 
an  old  man  to  find  his  missing  wife. 


5.    FOUR  LITTLE  BLOSSOMS  THROUGH  THE  HOLI- 
DAYS 

The  story  starts  at  Thanksgiving.  They  went  skating  and  coast- 
ing, and  they  built  a  wonderful  snowman,  and  one  day  Bobby  and 
his  chums  visited  a  carpenter  shop  on  the  sly,  and  that  night  the  shop 
burnt  down,  and  there  was  trouble  for  the  boys. 

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The  Motor  Girls  Series 

By  MARGARET  PENROSE 

Author  of  the  highly  successful  "Dorothy  Dale  Series" 
12  mo.     Illustrated.     Price    per   volume,  $1.00  postpaid. 


Since  the  enormous  success  of  our  "Motor 
Boys  Series,"  by  Clarence  Young,  we  have 
been  asked  to  get  out  a  similar  series  for 
girls.  No  one  is  better  equipped  to  furnish 
these  tales  than  Mrs,  Penrose,  who,  besides 
being  an  able  writer,  is  an  expert  auto* 
m  obi  list. 

The  Motor  Girls 

or  A  Mystery  of  the  Road 

The  Motor  Girls  on  a  Tous 

or  Keeping  a  Strange  Promise 

The  Motor  Girls  at  Lookout  Beach 

or  In  Quest  of  the  Runaways 

The  Motor  Girls  Through  New  England 

or  Held  by  the  Gypsies 

The  Motor  Girls  on  Cedar  lake 

or  The  Hermit  of  Fern  Island 

The  Motor  Girls  on  the  Coast 

or  The  Waif  from  the  Sea 

The  Motor  Girls  on  Crystal  bsc 

or  The  Secret  of  the  Red  Oar 

The  Motor  Girls  on  Waters  Blue 

or  The  Strange  Cruise  of  the  Tartar 

The  Motor  Girls  at  Camp  surprise 

or  The  Cave  in  the  Mountain 

The  Motor  Girls  in  the  Mountains 

or  The  Gypsy  Girl's  Secret  • 


CUPPLES  &  LEON  CO.,  Publishers, 


NEW  YORK 


THE  DOROTHY  DALE  SERIES 


By  MARGARET  PENROSE 

Author  of  "The  Motor  Girls  Series,"  "Radio  Girls  Series,"  &c. 

12  wo.     Illustrated 

Price  per  volume,  $1.00,  postpaid 


Dorothy  Dale  is  the  daughter  of  an  old  Civil 
War  veteran  who  is  running  a  weekly  news- 
paper in  a  small  Eastern  town.  Her  sunny 
disposition,  her  fun-loving  ways  and  her  trials 
and  triumphs  make  clean,  interesting  and  fas- 
cinating reading.  The  Dorothy  Dale  Series  is 
one  of  the  most  popular  series  of  books  for  girls 
ever  published. 


DOROTHY  DALE:  A  GIRL  OF  TO-DAY 
DOROTHY  DALE  AT  GLENWOOD  SCHOOL 
DOROTHY  DALE'S  GREAT  SECRET 
DOROTHY  DALE  AND  HER  CHUMS 
DOROTHY  DALE'S  QUEER  HOLIDAYS 
DOROTHY  DALE'S  CAMPING  DAYS 
DOROTHY  DALE'S  SCHOOL  RIVALS 
DOROTHY  DALE  IN  THE  CITY 
DOROTHY  DALE'S  PROMISE 
DOROTHY  DALE  IN  THE  WEST 
DOROTHY  DALE'S  STRANGE  DISCOVERY 
DOROTHY  DALE'S  ENGAGEMENT 
DOROTHY  DALE  TO  THE  RESCUE 

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THE  KHAKI  GIRLS  SERIES 

BY  EDNA   BROOKS 

ttmo.    Cloth.    Illustrated.    Jacket  in  full  colors 

Price,  per  volume,  65  cents,  postpaid 


How  two  young  girls  donned  the  kJtaki 
and  made  good  in  the  Motor  Corps,  a» 
organisation  for  women  developed  by  the 
Great  War,  forms  a  series  of  stories  of  sig- 
nal novelty  and  vivid  interest  and  action* 

i.    THE  KHAKI  GIRLS  OF  THE 
MOTOR  CORPS 

or  Finding  Their  Place  in  the  Big  War 

Joan  Mason,  an  enthusiastic  motor  girl,  and  Valerie  Warde,  a 
society  debutante,  meet  at  an  automobile  show.  They  become 
friends  and  go  together  to  the  Motor  Corps  headquarters  and  in 
due  time  are  accepted  and  become  members  of  the  Corps. 

2.  THE  KHAKI   GIRLS  BEHIND  THE  LINES 

or  Driving  with  the  Ambulance  Corps 

As  a  result  of  their  splendid  work  in  the  Motor  Corps,  the 
Khaki  Girls  receive  an  opportunity  to  drive  with  the  Ambu- 
lance Corps  in  France.  After  a  most  eventful  and  hazardous 
crossing  of  the  Atlantic,  they  arrive  in  France  and  are  assigned 
to  a  station  behind  the  lines. 

3.  THE  KHAKI  GIRLS  AT  WINDSOR  BARRACKS 

or  "Standing  To"  with  the  "Trusty  Twenty" 

Joan  Mason  and  Valerie  Warde  were  in  active  service  on 
errands  of  mercy  with  their  comrades  of  the  "Trusty  Twenty." 
Frequently  they  were  "under  cover"  from  a  Boche  air  raid  and 
hiding  from  the  devastation  of  high  explosives. 

4.  THE  KHAKI  GIRLS  IN  VICTORY 

or  Home  With  the  Heroes 

When  Joan  and  Valerie  had  ended  their  term  of  service,  fol- 
lowing the  signing  of  the  Armistice,  they  were  ordered  back 
home.  They  had  many  anxious  moments  aboard  a  derelict  follow-^ 
ing  the  disablement  of  the  transport. 

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